


PokéTangled

by dainochild



Category: Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions, Pocket Monsters: Black 2 & White 2 | Pokemon Black 2 & White 2 Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disney crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dainochild/pseuds/dainochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to his magical glowing hair, N has always had to stay in his tower dreaming of Pokémon liberation and Ferris wheels. When a thief named Black breaks into his tower, N takes the opportunity to break free and see the Ferris wheel before fulfilling his liberating destiny. Isshushipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tower

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic for a prompt on the Pokémon Kink Meme. It's being uploaded here at the request of an anon on tumblr. It obviously draws a lot from Disney's truly bizarre but charming movie Tangled. As a result, a number of lyrics and a couple of lines of dialogue are taken directly from the movie, though of course I tried to adapt it all so I was only using the basic premise of Tangled and applying it to the Pokémon BW/BW2 universe.
> 
> It was also written before N's real name was revealed so uh, just go with that!

Once upon a time, in the land of Unova, there were two brothers — two heroes. Between them, they had a two-headed Dragon pokémon. With this Dragon pokémon, they ended the war and unified Unova under the messages to seek truth and ideals. However, the brothers started to argue over which was more important — the truth, or ideals. Their argument split their pokémon in two; Reshiram and Zekrom. Seeing what their conflict had wrought, the brothers accepted that ideals and truth were equally important. But upon their deaths, their sons took up their fights and battled Reshiram and Zekrom. Their battles destroyed Unova and so Reshiram and Zekrom were sealed away. Before this happened, as way of apology, they created a magical flower. When sung to with a special song, this flower would glow and its light would heal any who touched it.

This is where Ghetsis come into the story. A bitter, twisted man desperate to leave an impression on the world, he hid the flower from the world and used its powers to keep himself alive for centuries as he planned total takeover of Unova using the powers of Reshiram and Zekrom. However, when he freed them from their dormant states, both pokémon recognised his impure heart and flew away. Enraged, Ghetsis hatched a new plan; breeding a child specially for the purpose of taming Reshiram and/or Zekrom.

From his servants who made up the Cult of Team Plasma, he selected a worthy candidate. But her pregnancy reached trouble; both she and their unborn child/King became gravely ill somehow. To heal them, Giallo created a potion from the magic flower. When the child was born, his hair was longer than he was and when the blood was washed away, it was brightest emerald green. Pokémon from all over flocked to the hair, and when it was sung to, it would glow and heal just as the flower had — unless it was cut. When cut, the hair lost its power and became a pale green, as Ghetsis discovered with a small lock of it.

Due to having no imagination, Ghetsis opened a dictionary randomly and, seeing the letter ‘N’, decided that would be the child’s name. To raise N in solitude and thus fill him with thoughts of liberation to aid his goal, Ghetsis had a tower built and there he kept N locked away to never be released until the time was right.

But the walls of that tower could not hide everything. Far off, in the distance, there was a collection of bright lights. Every night, after Ghetsis had fallen asleep, N would sneak to the window and peer out. In particular, he would watch the elegant circular motions of a wheel or lights, wishing and wanting…

And that was how the boy with magical hair grew up: dreaming of city lights with only a zorua for company.

From one of the few books Ghetsis had given him combined with a simple mathematical equation (geometry, calculating the distance via the angle of depression from his twenty metre or 65.62 foot tower), N figured out that the city of lights on the horizon was Nimbasa City. From the Flying-type pokémon who visited his tower to envy his hair, N heard that people held an annual festival of lights. While Ghetsis ranted his dreams of liberation, of fixing the world and saving pokémon and being King of the New World, N thought he would keep his own dreams simple for the time being. And what he really wanted was to see the festival of lights in the city of lights.

It was just a pity that his hair was 21.3 metres (70 feet) long and everybody in the world was cruel and desperate to use its magical qualities. At least, that was what Ghetsis said, and a lot of the pokémon agreed — in particular, the ones with scars.

Still, the lights were so pretty. And the book said there was a Ferris wheel; the circle of lights turning in elegant circular motions.

Every afternoon, Ghetsis would shout, “N, N, for liberation, let down your hair!” And N would struggle to pull him up. Then Ghetsis would spend some time ranting about liberating pokémon, brush N’s hair and make him sing, and remind him why he wasn’t allowed to leave the tower unless it involved Reshiram of Zekrom, preferably both.

Three days before his eighteenth birthday, however, N had spent hours with Zorua rehearsing the question he would ask and the case he would make in support of being allowed to leave for just a few days.

Yet when Ghetsis was standing before him, berating him for taking so long to pull him up, all of N’s planning fell away and it came out as, “Father, for my birthday, I want to go on the Ferris wheel!”

“You want to _what_?” Ghetsis icily demanded.

N swallowed. “I, I want to go to Nimbasa City,” he reiterated. Nervous, he clenched his hands before his chest. “The bright lights over at the bearing of 183 degrees, or south 3 degrees to the west, the pokémon say there’s a festival and —”

“You want to go outside,” Ghetsis realised. He sighed heavily. “Now N, I thought we had agreed the only way you were leaving this tower would be on the back of Reshiram or Zekrom.”

“Yes, for greater liberation, but I thought that perhaps if I were to go to Nimbasa City I would be able to liberate a smaller number of pokémon first, with my hair and maybe the circular motions, the mechanics, of the Ferris wheel because Ferris wheels are like a collection of elegant formulas and —”

“N, you’re doing the vague existential ranting,” Ghetsis growled. “You know how I feel about the vague existential ranting; your make my — I mean, our purpose very unclear.”

N bit his lip to keep from pouting, drew in a deep breath and replied, “If you let me go to Nimbasa City, I’m sure my point will be much clearer and perhaps I would be able to find a lead on Reshiram or Zekrom by asking some PokéFriends —”

“ _No_.” Ghetsis shook his head and turned away. “Nimbasa isn’t even a real city, N. You’re imagining things.”

“But I see it every ni—”

“ _Trust_ me, N. Father knows best.”

N struggled not to recoil. “If it is not real, then why do I see it every night?”

“Father knows best,” Ghetsis repeated, this time musically. He always sang to make his points clearer to N. “Listen to your daddy, it’s an awful world out there. Father knows best. One way or another, something will go wrong I swear.” He shoved N back against the table. “Trainers, Professors, beaten trapped pokémon —”

“No!” N cried (literally) in horror.

“Yes!” Ghetsis sing-declared with his teeth bared. “Also Pokémon Centres, PokéEgg omelettes and stop, no more, you’ll ruin the liberation.”

As N wiped his tears away, Ghetsis pulled him into his arms and stroked his hair. “Father’s right here; Father will protect you. My King, here’s what I suggest: skip the drama, stay in here, and,” abruptly, the singing stopped and Ghetsis growled, “ _Stick to the plan_.”

And that was it.

Once again, Ghetsis had very little imagination.

“But…” N swallowed heavily.

“N. Never ask to leave this tower again.”

With a sigh, N drooped. “Yes, Father.”

He was patted on the head. “Good boy.”

N didn’t need permission — he was going to be King. Kings didn’t need permission ever.

*

Black was, with full modesty, a criminal mastermind. The only thing faster than his fingers was his brain, or possibly his legs — Elesa and her emolga were having a hard time keeping up, and he’d long since ditched the freaks in the hoods who’d aided his heist. Plasma Grunts, they’d called themselves, and they’d actually thought they’d outsmart Black and steal the treasures away from him. Morons.

Due to the speed of his awesome brain, Black quickly left the well-known routes around Unova, something the average Trainer would consider suicide right along with stealing from a Gym Leader. But Black was by no means an average Trainer; he was a thief, he had ever badge in Unova and he’d even beaten the Elite Four. Black was a _super_ Trainer, which meant he was also a super thief and well worth all the praise he gave himself.

Then Elesa sent her zebstrika after him, so Black decided to stop praising himself and run faster.

_Maybe_ , Black thought, _I should send out Seismitoad_.

As he reached for the PokéBall in question, Black’s foot caught on a tree root and he tumbled through the tall grass. Wild pokémon were either shrieking in terror or laughing at him as he rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled through thickets and shrubs, between trees, off a cliff, through more tall grass filled with more wild pokémon that were either shrieking in terror or laughing at him before coming to a stop in a field full of the calmest pokémon he had ever seen.

“Dammit,” Black groaned. At least he still had his bag of stolen goods — and his PokéBalls. He slowly sat up, told the crowding audino that no, he did not need to be healed, and noticed the huge tower by the river.

“Well,” Black said, staggering to his feet, “that looks like a good place to hide.”

So he climbed the tower. It was, in full honesty, difficult. But Black felt that he was a manly man, so he did it without complaint. After swinging himself into the tower, Black was in total denial about experiencing anything in the way of jelly-limbs.

“Okay,” he panted. Drawing in a deep breath, he reached into his satchel and felt the Light and Dark Stones. “Good.” He glanced around the tower. It was covered in bright, feminie paintings, frilled curtains, dresses-in-progress on what looked like _male_ mannequins, and was completely empty. “Good. Alone at last.”

Then he was hit on the head with a frying pan.

N shrieked and leapt back as Black fell to the ground. “What _is_ it?!” the distressed king shouted. Slowly, holding the frying pan in front of him, N approached the creature. He prodded the body. “Is it a ditto? No, it couldn’t be, it spoke in lies like a human…”

Zorua shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t’ve hit him.”

“I can always seek the help of an audino friend or —” N’s eyes fell on the red and white balls strapped to the man’s belt. N shrieked in terror and promptly started to cry. “Those poor pokémon! How frightened they must feel! Oh, I must liberate them.”

Inside her ball, Black’s samurott’s time in the hot tub was ruined by a building sense of dread.

“Perhaps if Father sees that I can liberate Pokémon on my own, he’ll let me go ride the Ferris wheel!” N gushed. “Let’s lock the Trainer-scum away.” N paused, frowning. “He sure is pretty…”

And so, with great difficult and much hair-bondage, N managed to lock the Trainer-scum in his wardrobe after removing several of his dresses (the prettiest ones he didn’t want ruined by a Trainer’s touch).

“I wonder what kind of friends are trapped within these monster balls?” N asked.

“…why would I know?” Zorua replied.

N held each ball to his ear, but none of them said a thing. The poor Pokémon’s voices were suppressed. It made N cry, so he placed the balls in the Trainer’s bag. There were already three spheres inside. They were warm and made from what looked to be sapphire, ruby, and jade. Something about them was compelling…

“N, N! For the liberation, let down your hair!”

Quickly, N shoved the spheres and Terrible-Pokémon-Torture-Balls back in the bag and hid it in a giant pot. He gathered his hair, threw it over the hook and down the tower to where Ghetsis impatiently waited. N struggled to pull him up, but like Ghetsis said, he had to be strong to be King.

“I have a surprise for you,” Ghetsis said with that toothy grin.

N neatly coiled his hair on the floor. “As do I for you, however I’m quite certain mine is larger.”

“I find that rather difficult to believe.”

“Well, I —”

“This had better not be about that city,” Ghetsis icily said. “I already told you that it will not be happening.”

“But Father, I —”

“Drop it.”

“If you would listen I would explain that —”

“Silence, N! It will not be happening — you will _never_ leave this tower!” Ghetsis roared.

King status and all, N cowered.

“Oh, great,” Ghetsis placed a hand to his forehead and sighed, “now _I’m_ the bad guy.” He shook his head. “You understand N, that I merely wish to keep you safe from abominable Trainers, who would use your hair to lure out and trap all your Pokémon friends and then make them battle until near death, at which point they would make you sing them better to repeat the process. You do understand this, correct?”

“Yes Father.” But the Trainer in his closet was so pretty… “What I wanted to say was that I have a better idea of what I would like for my birthday.”

“Ah, and what would that be?”

N’s eyes flickered to the wall for an idea. “New paints,” he murmured. “I would like new paints and fabrics. The organic, non-PokéFriend harming kind.”

Ghetsis frowned. “Those are only available in — the place to buy them is very far away, N.”

N nodded. “Yes, a bearing of eight degrees or north eight degrees east. However, it is what I want, and it is for my eighteenth birthday and I feel that it would aid me in the preparation for liberation of the pokémon.”

“…paint?”

N nodded.

“I’m not sure that I understand how that would assist the liberation.”

“Pokémon like paint, and they like to be painted,” N sighed. “I know this because they are my friends.”

“Very well,” Ghetsis sighed. “Will you be fine on your own?”

“Yes,” N said. “I’m safe up here and my friends will help me if I need it.”

“…yes,” Ghetsis agreed with a glance out the window. “Very well. Do take care.”

N glanced to his closet. “I will.”

A king always gets his way.

*

Black woke up with a tongue in his ear. It was rough, like sandpaper, so naturally, he screamed. Something dark and furry scurried down his chest and off into the shadows — something that looked like a zorua. But how could that be? Zorua had been hunted to near extinction for their fur, as it was freakishly soft and made such great scarves the Pokémon had developed one of its own, and —

And Black was tied to a chair by thick coils of emerald green. It was shiny, smooth around his wrists, and really quite nice as far as ropes could go. Which made Black all too aware that it couldn’t be ropes at all. “Is this… hair?”

“There’s no sense in resistance,” a voice from the shadows called.

Black sighed. “I know. I’m tied up, after all. But seriously, is this hair?”

Out of the shadows stepped the owner of the shiny emerald hair. It was a man in a pink and purple dress, with no shoes, a frying pan clutched in his hands, a zorua on his shoulder, and far too much hair and oh yeah, _he was in a dress_.

“Who are you, and how did you find me?” the man demanded.

The man in the dress was by far the strangest thing Black had ever seen. So strange that he had broken Black’s brain. It didn’t help that he was tall and _pretty_.

“I said, who are you and how did you find me?”

“Oh, right.” Black shook his head to clear it. “Well. I, uh. I dunno.” No, this wouldn’t do. He was Black, master thief, and he was _smooth_. In a voice like honey being drizzled onto pancakes, he purred, “I didn’t come here searching for you, but let me just say, you’re really hot.”

The man frowned. “I don’t see how you’d know about the temperature of my body.”

“…uh.” Why wasn’t he putty yet?! “I mean that you’re very attractive.”

“Oh. Yes, I know.”

Black immediately felt like punching him, but smiled. “My name’s Black. It’s an honour to meet you…?”

The man just stared.

“…what’s your name?”

“N.”

“What?”

“My name is N.”

Black must have fallen over and become concussed. He tried shaking his head again, but N didn’t vanish. “Okay. N.”

“What are you doing here?” N demanded.

“I’m hiding. I didn’t know anybody was up here.”

For a moment, N stared. Then he snorted. “Of course. Like all humans, you speak in lies. What is it you want with my hair?”

Baffled, Black followed the huge trail of hair from N’s head to his own body. Again, he shook his head, but it appeared this was reality. “To get out of it.”

“You don’t want to sell it? Or cut it?”

“No!” Black cried. “What would I want with your hair?”

“As I said, cut it or sell it.”

“Well, yes, it’s ridiculously long but — but that’s none of my business. I don’t want your hair. I was being chased, I saw a tower, I climbed it, so please can you let me go?”

Without any word to excuse himself, N turned away and started muttering to the zorua. Since he was beyond feeling any surprise at this point, Black tried to squirm his hips so the hair might brush the button of a PokéBall…

“Shit!” he shouted. “What did you do to my pokémon?!”

“I liberated them,” N declared. “They’re still in their trapping containers, but they will be free soon unless you co-operate with my desires. You’ll never find them without my assistance.”

Black glanced around. “They’re in that pot, aren’t they?”

He was beaten around the head. Everything went dark and once again, he woke up with Zorua’s tongue in his ear.

“QUIT THAT!” Black shouted.

Zorua bit him, then scurried back to N.

“ _Now_ you’ll never find them without my assistance,” N confidently replied, twirling the frying pan. “So. You don’t want my hair, except to get out of it, and you know your way around Unova quite well, correct?”

“Yeah, I am a Trainer.”

N stared at him, wide-eyed and clearly terrified. Black swore there were tears forming in his eyes, so he quickly added a correction:

“Well, I _was_ a Trainer. I quit.”

“Ah, you saw sense and do have potential, then,” N observed. “Very good. I’m sure you’ll do nicely.” He started to walk past Black, and his hair pulled the chair around smoothly. “Look this way.” N pulled some curtains apart to reveal a very good painting of what was clearly Nimbasa City at night. “Do you know what this is?”

“Nimbasa,” Black replied. “The nearest city. What about it?”

“You will take me there,” N declared. “For the festival in three days’ time. You’ll escort me there, then escort me safely back to my tower. Then, I will return your bag with the peculiar and attractive but ultimately no doubt pointless gem-orbs to you.”

“And my pokémon?” Black demanded.

N sighed. “I suppose. If they agree.”

“They will.”

Black had no idea how he was going to sneak around the Festival of Lights without running into Elesa, any other Gym Leaders, Alder, or heaven forbid, _Cheren_ , but he was brilliant. He’d find a way.

“Okay!” N was suddenly bright and cheerful. “I’m going to let you go now. But if you touch me, I won’t hesitate to strike you with the frying pan.”

N tugged on his hair and, like magic, it uncoiled. The chair spun, tilted, and fell. Black happened to break the fall with his face.

“…well, that would be karma for imprisoning my friends,” N said.

“Crap,” Black groaned. He hauled himself to his feet. “You know, we could get there really really quickly if you let me have my pokémon. In fact, I wouldn’t even have to go with you.”

N gasped and actually did start crying. “No! How dare you use pokémon as tools! They’re not tools, they’re my friends, and despicable people like you are precisely why they must be saved!”

Black stared. “Uh. Okay then.”

Awkwardly, N continued to cry.

“Let’s go?” Black suggested, edging towards the tower’s window. “You know, get this over with.”

“Stop being so mean to the pokémon, they’re my friends,” N sobbed. “They’re not tools, they’re my friends.”

“I’m not mean to pokémon!” Black snapped. “They like me, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay, you’re _lying_. Nothing likes to be contained. Nothing. And you imprison them, therefore the only conclusion that can be reached is that you have imprisoned those poor pokémon for such a lengthy period that they have developed Stockholm Syndrome due to their naturally kind-hearted manner and I suppose your ignorance could simply come from your blatant lack of intelligence, evident from your hiding in the only building for miles, and —”

“Shut _up_ ,” Black groaned. “It’s going to be a very long trip if you don’t start moving.”

Being a king, N has no trouble wiping his eyes, glaring, and throwing his hair around the hook. As he stood on the window-sill, staring at the field of Pokémon below, Zorua on his shoulder staring mournfully into the distance, N was overwhelmed with emotions in need of immediate release — and so, he started to sing:

“Look at the world, so close, and I’m halfway to it. Look at my friends, so close, do I even dare? All it’s going to take is one step to permit my guilt dismissed and my adventure’s start. All it’s going to take is one step, knowing way deep in my heart, it’ll be worth it in the end.”

From behind him, Black asked, “Are… are you singing?”

N sighed. “Yes.”

“Why?”

With more theatrics, N sighed again. “Because I’m in _turmoil_.” Stupid Trainers didn’t know anything; they probably didn’t even have emotions. N continued to sing, “All it’s going to take is one step, if only I can do it…”

“Seriously, quit it. It’s weird.”

Hands clenching around his hair, N said, “You’re disrupting me.” He turned back to the window, stared back down to the pokémon, and opened his mouth to resume singing.

Black pushed him.

At first, N shrieked. But feeling the trajectory of the wind as he slid down his hair, being better able to hear his friends chatter, N soon started to laugh. Then he recalled he was having a life-crisis and tightened his grip on his hair until he came to a stop centimetres from the ground.

“Just one step,” N softly crooned. “All it’ll take is one step.”

“So just do it!” Black shouted.

Trainers, N concluded, were crude creatures with no understanding of style. They would all learn a lot from Father, no doubt.

But when N’s feet settled on the grass he lost all sense of style and dignity himself; it wasn’t as soft as he expected but it was warm and _wonderful_. Singing completely slipped from N’s mind; all he wanted was to frolic. So he did — through the grass, a stream, with a group of singing audino and towards the hidden entrance of his field. It didn’t matter that Father would be enraged, or that N tripped over his own hair three times, or that his feet were getting cut. N had never felt so much that he couldn’t sing about it, so he scrambled up a tree and shouted about how awesome not-tower-land was.

“…what is my life,” Black groaned.


	2. The Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black desperately tries to scare N back up his tower, or at least into returning his pokémon. Meanwhile, Ghetsis discovers N's absence...

It was typical of N to ask for something as mediocre as paint and believe it would have some influence on Ghetsis’ plans. A few songs, some paints, fabric and baking supplies were all it took to have N completely under control.

If Ghetsis had known using a child would be this easy he would have done it a hundred years ago. It was a pity he couldn’t remember what that woman who’d birthed the child was called, or whether she was still a part of Team Plasma; otherwise, Ghetsis would have sought more children in case N failed. But it had taken a very long time to find a suitable woman and Ghetsis was confident enough that N would remain completely obedient…

Except on the way to the main Trainer route, Ghetsis found a blitzle wearing a scarf. A very finely made scarf, with a very clear ‘GUCCI’ printed across it.

It was a trademark Pokémon of the Nimbasa City Gym Leader, Elesa.

“…no,” Ghetsis gasped, eye(s) widening.

Even though he was in his very stylish ceremonial robes, Ghetsis ran back to the tower. “N!” he shouted. “N, FOR THE LIBERATION, LET DOWN YOUR HAIR!”

“N!”

The door. The door he put in so the ninjas could sneak in when he was gone and watch N. Ghetsis shoved the rock covering it aside. Fumbled with the lock. Forced it open. Dashed up the stairs.

As he headed once more for the exit, Ghetsis noticed a strange bag under the stairs — a Trainer’s bag. He pulled it open and found two pointless orbs (Kyogre and Groudon — lesser legendaries for amateurs with no sense of style), a collection of PokéBalls and a slip of paper declaring:

_WANTED FOR THIEVERY_

_‘BLACK’_

_Reward: 100,000 pyen or a date with the Gym Leader of your choice._

_Signed: Champion Alder_

The boy in the photo was very young: seventeen, perhaps. Certainly old enough to steal Ghetsis’ plan. Definitely old enough to die for interference.

This called for an emergency meeting.

*

When Black caught up with N, he was sitting atop his mountain of hair hissing at a seviper.

“…okay then.”

Black sat down next to N and pondered a way out of this. He needed his pokémon, but they were clearly still at the tower; N’s dress was too tight to hide PokéBalls. So if Black could convince N to go home, he’d get his Pokémon back and be on his way.

Something about lying to N felt instinctively wrong. Black lied constantly, even before he was a thief, but he’d never met anybody so blatantly clueless. A man who runs around in tight purple dresses with seventy feet of hair and, Black realised with a downward glance, no shoes, wasn’t made to survive. Looking closer at N’s feet, he noticed faint smudges of what looked to be blood — but not a mark on N’s skin. Odd. Perhaps he’d trodden on berries.

“Don’t you think you need shoes?” Black asked.

N kept hissing at the seviper.

Suddenly, lying seemed like a very viable option.

“Hey, look at me,” Black demanded.

N didn’t, but he did icily say, “If you don’t mind, Trainer scum, I’m having a very important conversation with this serviper.”

“Uh-huh, and it’s very important that we get this over and done with,” Black sighed. “It’ll take a couple of days to reach Nimbasa.”

N slid down his hair until his feet were on the ground. He stood up with a slight wince, hissed at the serviper, before turning back to Black with an expectant look.

“Do you really not need shoes?” Black asked.

“Typical of a Trainer,” N sighed. “Worrying about things that don’t matter.”

“It just looks like your feet have been bleeding, is all.”

“They have. But they got better.”

Black stared.

N stared back.

The seviper hissed.

“Okay,” Black said. “Let’s go then.”

Black kept looking for ways to run, but it was no good. N was carrying the frying pan, the zorua was still in his hair ( _what_ was with the hair, anyway? N stabbed at Black with the frying pan whenever he looked at it) and Black’s attempts at convincing N to go home were failing.

“Don’t you think your parents would be worried?”

“My father is a moron,” N simply said. “He doesn’t understand what it means to be King.”

“There isn’t a monarchy in Unova,” Black sighed.

“Yes there is.”

“No, there isn’t. There never has been.”

N looked down his nose at Black. “Pathetic Trainer.”

After that exchange, Black had no hesitation in leading N to a pub full of hardened criminals.

“You are hungry, aren’t you?” Black asked, reaching for N’s hand.

Zorua leapt forward and bit Black on the nose.

“Okay, okay!” Black groaned. “Just asking.”

N cooed at Zorua, “Good boy.” He looked down at Black. “Yes, I am hungry, but I will not eat any of your scummy Trainer food.”

“We’ll go to a top restaurant,” Black assured him, “as an apology for how I’ve behaved.”

Black didn’t think he’d actually done anything wrong at all, but N nodded in satisfaction.

“This way,” Black said, forcing a smile.

N threw back his hair (or a very small portion of it), gave a bark to his zorua, and walked by Black’s side. He was walking bare foot on gravel like it was no problem. Black had to wonder what the hell was up with that.

“Are you sure you’ve never left that tower before?” Black suspiciously checked.

“Do not waste my time with insolence, Trainer,” N sniffed.

Yeah, definitely hadn’t. Weirdo.

The Fluffy Duckling was a very familiar spot to Black. He had no friends there, and neither did any body else. Black was by no means a regular, but he had slipped in there several times when being cornered. Nobody, Trainer, Gym Leader, police officer or even Elite Four, was man enough to go in there and risk the assault of the notorious band of thugs. They were so chaotic that they had no name, no alliances — only rage and bulging muscles.

It was the perfect place to use to terrify N.

“Here we go,” Black said, grinning as he held the door open. “Go on. High class joint, fit for a king.”

N walked in, head held high. He looked around and gasped. His eyes watered, but Black had no way of knowing if that was terror or the smell.

“Great, isn’t it?” Black smoothly asked, steering N through the crowd. “Don’t you just love visiting fancy restaurants like this?”

N gave a pathetic whine.

“So, you’re hungry, right?” Black asked. “I hear they roast whole emboar here. That’s a meal worthy of a king, right? Or would you rather swanna? Or maybe —”

Black fell silent. A hand was gripping his shoulder, and it was too smelly to be N’s.

“Oi, you.” The hand pulled Black backwards. “Ain’t you that thief the Champion himself is offerin’ a reward for?”

“…no…” Black slowly said. “Of course not. I’m a model citizen.”

The man laughed in Black’s ear. “Then, why’re ya in here?”

Black was forced to turn around. The man was twice his size and looked like he may have once been a Hiker, hopefully not one named Andy. He held up a poster beside Black.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “Definitely you.” He wrapped an arm tightly around Black’s shoulders, like he was trying to squeeze them out of their sockets. “Thanks for the hundred grand, mate. I needed that money.”

“Th-that’s funny,” Black gasped. “I, I need to not see the Champion. S-so, how about, I get you, the money, somehow, and you let me go free?”

The man started laughing. “Oh, you’re too cute, kid. Too cute.”

“You’re cute too,” another voice oozing testosterone chuckled. “I need that money more than what you do, Chuck.”

A third voice joined them. “Back off, Jackie. I need it for me little girl’s birthday.”

Black couldn’t see for all the muscular men reaching for him. There was an extremely loud ‘THUNK’ and silence fell. Every eye turned to N, brandishing the frying pan over his head, looking ready to murder them all with his hair and purple dress.

Black was pretty sure that this was when he was going to die.

“Get your hands off him,” N hissed in a surprisingly manly voice. “Return him to me!”

And now Black was the damsel in distress, _to a freak with seventy feet of green hair and a damn purple dress with flowers and lace_ , and he was _glad_ that he was going to die.

“Run along, little girl,” the first man said. “Shouldn’t mix yourself with us lot, right boys?”

Guffawing. Why did thugs even do that? Why had Black reduced himself to being even _worse_ than thugs?

“I am _a_ king,” N growled like a lillipup. “And that is my guide! He is required to take me to see the lights in Nimbasa _which is a real city you know_ and if you don’t give him back, Zekrom will reign lightning down on you all and Reshiram will reign fire down and you will all die horribly for standing in the way of my dream!”

Black never should have resorted to crime. If he got out of this alive, he would return everything he’d stolen and never, ever climb up a tower uninvited again.

N stared around at the thugs. “Don’t any of you have a _dream_?”

The thugs exchanged looks.

And then, N did the worst thing he possibly could have done. He climbed up onto the bar, stood with his hands on his hips and drew in a deep breath. And then, because he clearly had suicidal tendencies, N started to sing:

“Way down deep inside, I’ve got a dream, and that’s why my hair does so gleam —” N started to lovingly caress his hair “— it’s what gives me my life’s steam, all because I have a dream.”

The arms holding Black disappeared. He fell to the ground, thankfully _not_ staring up N’s dress as the biggest thug of all took a heavy step towards N.

“Oh no,” Black loudly said. “No, kill me first, I don’t want to see what you do to him.”

“Shuddit,” the thug said. He stared deeply into N’s unafraid eyes. “I… I had a dream, once…”

“Oh _no_ ,” Black groaned.

The thug’s hand covered his heart as he sang, “I wanted to be, the very best, like no one ever was.”

“Der ner ner,” said his fellow thugs.

N smiled and nodded.

The largest thug continued, “To catch ‘em’d be my real test, but to train ‘em’d be my cause…”

N’s smile fell. The bar broke out in people supplying the backing music as the largest thug climbed up onto the bar besides N, threw an arm around his shoulders and sang even louder.

“Then I travelled across the land, searching far and wide.”

“DER NER NER,” erupted around the room.

“Turned out I was no good; I didn’t have the power inside!” The thug stopped his foot and shoved N to the side before shouting, “MY POKÉMON! They were no good! I thought it was my destiny.”

“BUT YOUR POKÉMON SUCKED!”

Black climbed to his feet. The bar was too busy with the song-and-dance routine, and N finally looked appropriately terrified. His bottom lip was quivering, his eyes were filled with tears, and his fingers trembled around the frying pan. He looked pathetic. Black couldn’t just leave him.

“Dammit,” Black sighed.

“OH, MY BEST FRIEND BEAT ME, AND I HAD MONEY TO SEEEEEEK!”

Black slipped between the jiving thugs and to the bar. He reached for N’s hand and tugged him down. N gathered up his hair and followed, holding Black’s hand painfully tightly as the next “POKÉMON SUCK” chorused through the room.

“How can they, what are they, I don’t,” N babbled.

“Shh,” Black whispered. “We’re sneaking out of here.”

N wibbled.

Miraculously, N followed Black over the bar and down the super-secret passage that Black had totally never had to use before to avoid a certain Normal-type Gym Leader. The way N hung close to Black was almost cute.

“Is that really all normal humans want?” N softly asked, gesturing back up towards the bar. They could still hear the faint shouts of ‘POKÉMON SUCK!’ “To Train pokémon for the sake of their own personal glory?”

“D’ya think that’s what I want?” Black retorted.

“No,” N muttered. “But being a thief of possession rather than a thief of freedom is only a fraction better.”

Black frowned. “It’s not like that. I — I Robin Hood. I’m good.”

“There was no verb in that sentence,” N observed. “I do not think you understand what a sentence is.”

Black stopped. He reached out for N’s arm, making him follow suit. “I don’t steal for _me_. I steal from the rich and give to the poor. Like Robin Hood. So it’s tricky grey area of morality that’s fine.”

N tutted. “Grey is a stupid colour. It ought not to exist. When I’m king, it won’t.”

N continued to follow the tunnel, head held high. Black frowned after him.

Why did it matter that N thought he was a jerk?

*

Before the Sages assembled, Ghetsis had had plenty of time to think. N was hardly human. Being around humans would not bode well for him. There was no way this Trainer would be able to undo Ghetsis’ years of careful manipulation. All that Ghetsis needed worry about was the effect being away from N’s magical hair would have on his health.

Ghetsis had always enjoyed the fact that every member of the Seven Sages had the same flare for dramatics that he had. There was nothing quite like a group of like-minded individuals, and finding a group who were not only like-minded but also enjoyed purple robes had been fantastically wonderful. Close to perfection, in fact.

“Gentlemen,” Ghetsis said, arms spread in greeting, though they had been sitting and indulging in casual conversation for the past twenty minutes. “You know why we are here. We’ve not much time, and quite a problem here.”

Rood raised a nervous hand. “Sage Ghetsis, sir, are we to be singing at this meeting?”

Ghetsis scowled, hands dropping. “Not any more we’re not.”

Rood cowered. Good.

“My lord,” Bronius nervously said. “Is it true that N has escaped?”

“Yes, it is true,” Ghetsis replied. He dropped a sky blue bag on the table. “I found this under the stairs. A Trainer has taken him.”

Zinzolin gave a loud gasp and fainted in his chair.

“Again? Really?” Ghetsis sighed. “Gorm, get the smelling salts.”

Zinzolin was revived and cried, “This is terrible! All of our hard work with that child, gone.”

“Not necessarily gone,” Ghetsis said. He offered a toothy grin as he pulled a poster from the bag. “I believe this is the culprit.”

The Sages stared at the poster in disbelief.

“We are all aware of Alder’s… feelings for this particular boy, are we not?” Ghetsis said.

“I wasn’t,” Giallo muttered.

Ghetsis slammed the poster down on the table. “My friends, we could not have picked a better person to drive the horrors of the world into N’s heart. Loathed by the majority of the community. An exiled failed Trainer. Personally hunted by the Champion himself. With this boy as his companion, there is no way N will ever have the slightest sympathy for Trainers again.”

Zinzolin applauded. When he realised none of the others were joining in, he glanced around, before hanging his head in shame.

“If we are lucky, he will accelerate the plan and drive N to seek the Dragons on his own,” Ghetsis continued, teeth gleaming in a pre-selected light. “And, to make sure…” He snapped his fingers.

The Shadow Triad appeared on the table. Zinzolin shrieked and fainted once more. No time was wasted on his revival.

“Keep track of N,” Ghetsis commanded. “Make sure all goes as I plan. If this ‘Black’ becomes a problem, then he must die.”

“Must die, must die,” the Sages echoed.

The Shadow Triad bowed deeply before disappearing once more.

Ghetsis turned to the window. As their castle was currently underground, it showed nothing but dirt, but it was still structurally impressive. “I shall, of course, have my own part to play. N is clay, and like clay, he must be carefully moulded to suit my — I mean, our — needs.”

The Sages were silent.

Ghetsis turned back to them. “You are dismissed.”

The Sages filed out, one by one. Only Bronius stopped, and he did so with hesitation.

“My Lord…” Bronius did not dare meet Ghetsis’ eyes. “I fear that N may not react as you plan. This is an, well, attractive young man he’s travelling with, and —”

“My son is not a homosexual,” Ghetsis said firmly. “He is the perfect puppet, just as I made him be.”

Bronius bowed. “Yes, my lord. Forgive my insolence.”

“It is forgiven.”

Bronius bowed once more before leaving.

Ghetsis frowned as he stared at the wanted poster. Perhaps… No, that was foolish. Bronius was a fool. There would never be anything but pokémon on N’s mind, the stupid child.

Still, Ghetsis took the bag with him when he left. He could find use of it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter featured a bastardised versions of the Tangled song 'I've Got A Dream' mixed with the original 4Kids Pokémon Theme Song written by John Loeffler, and some lyrics from Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber's 'This Jesus Must Die' from Jesus Christ Superstar.


	3. The Glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> N reveals what the deal is with his hair, and Black's past starts to catch up with him in ways he'd really rather it didn't.

They made it halfway through the tunnel before anybody decided to chase the wanted criminal and the freaky self-declared king who would probably be a criminal soon.

“Okay, so, say somebody stole a loaf of bread,” Black called as they ran from Elesa’s stupid zebstrika, “because they were starving, and they’d die if they didn’t.”

“Still wrong, but I am a fair king, I would forgive them,” N replied, bundling up his hair. “This way!”

Black followed N to the source of light. “Okay, so that’s not _as_ wrong. What I do, it’s like that!”

“It’s not,” N said as they burst out into the light. He shielded his eyes. “You’re making innocent people part of your crimes.”

“I am not!”

“You are.”

Black scanned the mountain. It was very familiar, the high rock formations, the mostly-useless paths leading out of the mostly-deceptive exits… it was Twist Mountain, and they were at the very bottom in the centre crater. “How’re we gonna get out of here?” He glared. “How did we even _get_ to Twist Mountain?”

“Is that bad?” N asked.

“ _Very_ bad.”

Elesa’s zebstrika ran into the clearing, Gucci scarf streaming dramatically.

“What did you do to that poor pokémon?” N demanded.

“Nothing!” Black cried. “I just… did some stuff, got some stuff… nothing _bad_!”

“You don’t know what bad is, do you?” N huffed. He took a step towards the zebstrika, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture, and smiled genuinely and warmly. “Hello,” he whinnied.

Black groaned.

Zebstrika whinnied back.

“Do you think you could attack the pathetic human later?” N ask-whinnied. “I need him for now. You can have him when I’m done. Will that be okay?”

Zebstrika bit him. With electricity on its teeth. It bit N with _electricity_.

“Holy SHIT!” Black cried, pulling N away. “Are you okay?!”

“Fine,” N said, watching the blood pour down his arm. The bite was not only deep, but the flesh around it was singed. “That hurts.”

Zebstrika whinnied loudly, stomping his hooves.

Black stood in front of N, slowly walking backwards. “We have to get inside the mountain,” he muttered to N. “We have to get out of —”

“BLACK!”

Black looked up the mountain and paled. Gazing down at them, dark hair billowing in the wind, was the Normal-type Gym Leader.

“Who’s that?” N whispered.

“No idea,” Black lied.

“OI, PRETTY BOY!”

It was the thugs. Apparently their song-and-dance had ended.

“Shit,” Black muttered. “Shit, shit, shit, shit…”

“I can handle this,” N declared.

“Not with your arm like that,” Black snapped. “Just shut up for a minute, lemme think, I can get us out of this, I’m a criminal mastermind for the good of the people.”

N shoved his arm in Black’s face. There was a faint smearing of blood, but the bite was completely gone.

“…what.”

N flashed a smirk, and oh god it was _really attractive_ , gathered his hair and threw it at a hook.

“What’s that gonna —”

N’s hair _curled around the hook and tied itself_.

“… _what_.”

N tugged on his hair to test the grip, wrapped his arm around Black’s waist ( _why_ ) and pulled them up his hair. Black clung tightly, wondering what the hell was wrong with N and why he was so strong for a man in a _purple dress_.

“There,” N said, eyes fixed on a platform. He swung and they landed there and _how_.

“Oh my god,” Black gasped. “O-oh my god, oh my god, _oh my god_ …”

“Let go?” N asked.

Black reluctantly did so.

“BLACK, WAIT!” the Normal-type Gym Leader shouted.

“Quick,” Black rasped.

They ran into the mountain.

“What did you steal?” N asked.

“Just some gems,” Black replied. “Nothing _that_ important.”

N sniffed. “This is what happens when terrible people like you are allowed to roam free.”

Black scowled. “Shut the hell up.”

“BLACK, WOULD YOU QUIT RUNNING?”

Black grabbed N’s hand and started to run blindly. It didn’t matter where, they just had to get away.

“I hear water,” N panted. “That’s got to be a way out, right? Water?”

“Should be,” Black agreed. They bolted around a corner, past a steady trickle of water and towards a doorway.

The sound of hooves was closing in on them.

“Faster!” N commanded, handing Black a bundled length of his hair. “Go faster!”

It would work better if Zebstrika didn’t seem to be taking that urging too.

N dropped Black’s hand and charged forward through the doorway. Black was close behind.

“There’s something in the way!” N whined. “It’s too dark to see!”

Black’s hands slammed against the wall. “You idiot, it’s a dead-end!”

Behind them came a loud whiny. They could hear Zebstrika’s breath and make out his reflective eyes. It couldn’t fit, Black realised. If they did nothing, they’d be safe.

N didn’t seem to, though.

“Stop!” N shouted. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Take the thief, not me!”

Zebstrika kicked the cave wall.

N whimpered.

Zebstrika kicked the cave walls again. Rocks started to fall.

“No, wait!” Black cried.

With a mighty crash, Zekstrika’s legs crashed through the support pillar. The timber fell in on itself. Black quickly pulled N back towards the stream, shielding him and Zorua from the falling rocks. Water was rising around them, and everything went dark.

They were trapped.

“This is all your fault,” N gasped. “You, you stupid THIEF! You stupid TRAINER THIEF!” He banged his hands against the wood. “I’m supposed to go to Nimbasa, I’m supposed to do that and then get Reshiram or Zekrom and then save my friends and now I _can’t_ because you’re a stupid thief!”

Black wrapped his arms around N. “Just, calm down okay? I’m sorry.”

N drew in a deep breath. “I’m too wonderful to die.”

“I know,” Black murmured.

N punched Black in the shoulder. “You absolute moron, Black.”

Black held N closer. The water was rising rapidly. He swallowed heavily. So, this was how he was going to die. Trapped in a pitch-black cave, fully aware of it and clutching a sobbing man-child with 70 feet of hair and some complex about being king of the pokémon or whatever. It wasn’t how he’d imagined it. He’d imagined dying alone a million times, but never dragging someone who’d never even had the chance to live along with him.

“N…” he whispered softly, wiping the tears from N’s cheeks. “That’s not my name. It’s really… it’s really Hilbert.”

N stared down at him, eyes wide with terror and swimming with tears, and burst into laughter.

Black smiled weakly. “So what’s the deal with your hair?”

N sniffled. “It, it’s magic and it glows when I sing.”

Black’s jaw dropped. “Sing!”

“How would that help —”

“Just do it!”

The water was up to Black’s neck as N started to frantically sing, “Flower gleam and glow, let your powers shine, make Dialga revert, bring back what once —”

The water was above their heads, but the light was spreading from N’s roots down his hair. Black tried not to be surprised. He followed the light, swimming down to pull at the assortment of rocks and timber. His hands were gashed almost immediately, but he had to keep going. There — a small hole. He reached up, gripping N’s hair tightly, and kicked.

It was like an eruption. The water flooded out the hole, dragging them with it. Black kept his grip on N’s hair through the torrent. The ground was thick with mud. They were covered in it, especially N’s hair, which was glowing weakly. N sat up, gasping for breath, staring around the mountain.

“I hate this place,” he said.

Black laughed.

As soon as they stumbled from the cave, sopping wet and catching the winking eye of a hiker, N demanded that he find a place to clean.

“A king should never be so filthy,” he said.

“I dunno, I kinda like it,” Black said with a pointed smirk.

N pulled Zorua from his hair and cooed at him. “Aww, you’ve got mud on your nose. Don’t worry, we’ll fix that.” N glared at Black. “Won’t we?”

Black obediently led them to a river.

N slid into the water and coaxed Zorua in after him. Black sank on the bank, watching as N pulled his hair in. N really did look stunning when he was wet.

“Why is your hair magic?” Black asked.

N stared at him like he was an idiot. “Because having ordinary hair would be unworthy of me.”

“Obviously,” Black said. “So, it just glows? Why didn’t it glow before when you sang?”

“It has to be that song,” N replied. “Does it particularly matter, _Hilbert_?”

Black’s smile fell. “No, I just thought —”

“That we’d be friends?” N snorted. “No. You’re a Trainer and a thief. I’m a king. It would never happen.”

Black rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay.” He leant forward to wash his hands in the stream. His blood coiled through the water. When he looked up, N was watching, eyes wide.

“When did that happen?” N demanded.

“When I was saving your life,” Black retorted.

N’s eyebrows pulled together like he was worried. He actually left Zorua to swim to Black’s side. “Does it hurt?”

“…how can you swim?” Black asked.

“Does it hurt?” N repeated.

“Yeah, it really hurts,” Black replied. “I’ll just have to get some bandages, it’s fine really.”

N started wrapping his hair around Black’s hands.

“…uh…”

“Shh,” N said. He sang, much slower and calmer than before, “Flower gleam and glow, let your powers shine.”

His hair started glowing. It actually glowed like green fireworks lighting up the sky.

“Make Dialga revert, bring back what once was mine.”

Warmth was spreading to Black’s hand. It tingled, but not unpleasantly.

“Heal what has been hurt, change Arceus's design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine… What once was mine.”

N met Black’s eyes, brown still furrowed in concern all for him, and Black decided that he’d really like to kiss N.

“Don’t freak out,” N murmured very softly as he unravelled his hair.

“Why would I —” Black stopped and stared at his hands. They were as new. No, they were _better_ than new. That scar from the case with the Nacrene Museum, the burn from the volcarona that never had quite healed, the calluses from ropes and climbing, all gone. “ _Oh my god_ ,” Black freaked.

“Don’t,” N firmly said. “It was a one-time thing, as you did save my life.”

“That’s not really an equivalent exchange,” Black muttered. “But sure. Thanks, darling.”

N turned away, face red, and waded back to Zorua.

“Freak,” Black muttered bitterly.

He still really wanted to kiss N.

They decided to settle there for the night. Black set up a fire, N sat around brushing out his hair (which took the entire night, from sunset to ten), Zorua slept closest to the fire. Black tried to tear his eyes away from N, and all that hair, and how smooth it looked and how it was _magic_ and that seemed completely reasonable because it was _N_ , but he couldn’t. Not until N declared:

“It is time for sleep. Extinguish the fire, we will not disturb any poor pokémon.”

“Sure,” Black sighed.

It had been a long day.

*

Black woke up to a slap.

“You _idiot_ ,” a voice hissed.

Black groaned, sitting up. His vision was blurred as he struggled to awaken. “N…? What’d I do now?”

His reply was another slap.

“Shit!” Black yelped.

A hand was slammed over his mouth, and Black’s vision finally cleared. There, leaning close, eyes narrowed with loathing, was the Normal-type Gym Leader, Cheren. He didn’t wear glasses now, he was just as pale, but his hair was longer and he had a stupid orange tie.

“When did you get contacts?” Black casually asked.

“Don’t give me that crap,” Cheren growled. His hands curled around Black’s shoulders and he shook him violently. “Why are you being so _stupid_?”

“Why are _you_ trying to arrest me?” Black demanded. “That’s _stupid_. I can’t be contained, Cheren. I just can’t.”

Cheren slapped him again.

“ _What_?”

“You’re acting like an insufferable moron, that’s what,” Cheren icily said. “I know why you’re doing all this, and it is the stupidest coping method I’ve ever heard of, but if you’re going to do it you could at least steal pointless things.”

“I do,” Black insisted. “Then I sell them and give the money to the poor.”

Cheren stared, deadpan.

“…most of the money.”

The deadpan continued.

“…some of the money.”

Cheren rolled his eyes. “Give me back the Orbs and I’ll let you go this _one_ time.”

“Can’t,” Black replied. He gestured at N. “He’s got ‘em.”

Cheren stared at N. “Hair? That’s what does it for you? Hair?”

“No!” Black squeaked. “He’s holding me hostage.”

“…he.”

“Yes, he! Shut up!”

N stirred slightly. Black pressed his finger to his lip and whispered very quickly, “I found him in a tower I climbed up to escape Elesa.”

“And it was love at first sight?” Cheren dryly asked.

Black glared. “You know, I’m pretty sure I saw Bianca the other day wearing _your_ glasses. And we both know she wouldn’t be able to steal so much as a pebble from a path.”

“Your point?” Cheren asked, cheeks pink.

“No point,” Black replied. “Just shut up about N.”

Cheren grumbled something.

“He’s taken my bag hostage,” Black continued to explain. “And my pokémon.”

“Oh, you haven’t abandoned those as well?” Cheren snapped.

Black gritted his teeth. “So, I have to lead him to Nimbasa and then back to his tower before he’ll give it back.”

“And why couldn’t you just steal it back?”

Black shrugged. “He tied me up with his hair.”

Cheren sighed impatiently. “I need to get those Orbs back. They’re keys to control Legendary Pokémon and if they fall in the wrong hands…”

“You’re lying,” Black yawned. He flopped back down. “’M goin’ back t’ sleep.”

Black caught the slap before it landed, but didn’t manage to avoid the kick. Cheren hauled him up, shaking him violently until he opened his eyes, before hissing, “Listen to me. I won’t let your selfish tantrum cause another situation like Team Magma and Team Aqua. You’re going to give me back those Orbs so I can return it to where it belongs, in my care, with the others —”

“Others?” Black asked. “Like the Light Stone? And the Dark Stone?”

Cheren glared. “Yeah. Thanks to _you_ , I have to keep them with me. It’s Elesa’s turn, but of course —”

“Where would she put them,” Black said, nodding.

Cheren slapped him again. “Stop interrupting me.”

“ _Shit_ , Cheren, would you _quit_ that?!”

“You deserve it,” Cheren growled. “You left us.”

“I _had_ to,” Black muttered. “You know what I did.”

“It wasn’t great,” Cheren admitted. “But what you’ve done since is worse.”

Black rolled his eyes. “Not even.” He shoved Cheren away. “Are you gonna go or what?”

“Not until I get back what is ours,” Cheren replied.

“N won’t like it,” Black said.

“I don’t care what your cross-dressing boyfriend wants,” Cheren icily replied.

With a heavy sigh, Black leant over and gently shook N. He ducked behind Cheren as the frying pan was raised and thrown in their general direction.

“I stand correctly,” Cheren monotoned. “You like them psychotic.”

“Shut up,” Black groaned.

N rolled over and sat up. He clutched Zorua tightly to his chest, eyes flashing like lightning. “Who is this?” he demanded.

“Cheren,” Black replied. “He’s a… a friend.”

Cheren huffed. “Think about it much?”

Black waved him off. “I have something of his. He’s planning on following me until he gets it back.”

N stared at Cheren’s tie. Black really couldn’t blame him.

“He is not allowed to accompany us to Nimbasa,” N finally said.

“You don’t get a choice,” Cheren snapped.

“I _always_ get a choice, I’m _king_ ,” sighed N.

“King?” Cheren laughed.

N leapt to his feet. “Yes, _king_.” He grabbed the frying pan and pointed it at Cheren menacingly, repeating, “I am King N, sometimes Lord N, and I swear to you, those who stand in my way will _pay_.”

“With fire and blood,” Black added knowingly.

N paused. “That doesn’t sound bad.”

Cheren glad to the sigh in exasperation and pleaded, “Spare me.”

“I will,” N loudly said. “But only if you do as I command. If you get in the way of my dream, every breath you take will be one of suffering.”

Black was starting to realise that N probably liked him.

“And what is that dream?” Cheren asked.

“To see the lights in Nimbasa city,” N replied.

Cheren looked at Black as if to say ‘Is he for real?’

Black nodded.

“Fine,” Cheren grumbled. “I shall allow it.”

“I shall allow you to allow it,” N hissed.

Black sighed. “Can we get going? We’ve got a long way to go.”

N flicked back his hair. “Yes, we shall.” He started to walk straight ahead, head held high and Zorua at his heel.

“What is with the hair?” Cheren asked, watching the seventy feet trailing out.

“Best not to ask, he’s a bit —”

N whirled around, hitting Cheren around the head with the frying pan.

“— sensitive about that.”

N caught Cheren before he fell, oddly enough. “He’s heavy,” N observed. He beckoned Black closer and dropped Cheren into his arms. “Have your _friend_ back, won’t you?”

Black stumbled, tripped and collapsed.

N stared back, adjusted his hair carefully, and laughed.


	4. The City Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes reach Nimbasa!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Cheren's misogynistic slurs and a few cissexist comments about N. He's jelling.

Cheren was not in a good mood when he came to.

“Your cross-dressing boyfriend is a psycho _cunt_ ,” Cheren growled.

“That’s a bit harsh,” Black said. “You shouldn’t say words like that. It’s offensive to women.”

Cheren glared. “And you’d know.”

“It’s offensive to women to act like being one is an insult,” Black replied, grinning.

Cheren growled. “What do you care about women?”

Black helped Cheren to his feet. “I think you’re getting really jerk in your old age.”

Cheren continued to grumble. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Black pointed. “Follow the trail of hair.”

N had climbed up a tree with Zorua to talk in secret. Black had no idea what about, but figured it couldn’t be much more than the ideal time to go on the Ferris wheel.

“Is your _friend_ awake?” N called.

“Yep.”

N slid down his hair. Black fought back a smile. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

Cheren opened his mouth to argue. Black sent him a threatening look. Cheren huffed and was silent for almost a mile.

“How do you expect to walk in a city with that hair?” Cheren snappily demanded. “It gets in the way of everything.”

N raised his frying pan menacingly. “Do you not learn?”

“Just, let it go,” Black suggested. He’d been wondering the same thing himself. Would N just carry it all the whole time they were in Nimbasa? Would it even fit in the Ferris wheel carts?

“It’s stupid, is all,” Cheren said.

“Shut up Cheren,” Black sighed.

N smirked at Cheren.

“Let’s get going,” Black hastily said. “We’ve still got a long way to go, and the festival’s tomorrow night.”

That got N moving very quickly. Had he had any idea where he was going, N’s attempts to lead the group would’ve been more successful. Black admired N’s effort all the same.

Black less admired Cheren’s efforts. It had been a long time since they last spoke, and while Black was glad to hear about Cheren’s success as a Gym Leader, Bianca’s as Juniper’s assistant, White with her newfound fascination in all things media, or at least, to hear about it from a first-hand source, Cheren continually spliced these updates with questions about what Black had been up to. It did not bode well for a Gym Leader to ask a wanted criminal mastermind “Where have you been for two years?”

Eventually, Cheren gave up and started asking about Black’s pokémon. It was a far more comfortable topic, and one that Black could see interested N as well — though N refused to contribute to any conversation Cheren was a major part of.

The sun had set when N turned to Black and demanded, “When are we stopping?”

“Nimbasa’s only a little while away,” Black said. “We could keep going, and —”

“No, I want to see it properly _tomorrow_ ,” N impatiently replied. He sat down, pulling Zorua from his hair. “We’re stopping. Here. Now.”

There was no arguing with that.

“Guess I’d better get firewood, then?” Black sighed.

“Yes, you had,” N replied.

“I’m helping,” Cheren quickly declared. He tried to brush off his panic at the prospect of being alone with N, but Black still knew him too well.

“Let’s go then,” Black said, grinning.

N gave a sulky huff as they walked off into the woods. Cheren glanced back at him, frowning in concern.

“Black, about that guy…”

“What about him?” Black irritably asked.

Cheren grabbed Black’s arm to whisper in his ear, “I don’t think you should trust him.”

“I don’t,” Black quickly said. “I don’t trust anyone.”

It took Black a moment to recognise the look in Cheren’s eyes as hurt.

Black laughed nervously. “What can go wrong?”

Cheren sighed heavily. “Let’s just get the damn firewood.”

Black glanced back at N. He was engrossed in talking to his zorua. “Yeah, let’s.”

He turned and walked away quickly, missing N’s surprised cry when three men with shaggy grey hair, all dressed in black, appeared.

“…come,” they said in eerie union.

“Don’t boss a king around,” N snapped.

The three pulled N to his feet and rushed him through the trees to another clearing. Standing there, arms crossed over his chest, a pale blue bag hanging from one arm dramatically, and disapproving scowl firmly in face, was Ghetsis.

“Father,” N gasped, horrified.

“What are you doing, N?” Ghetsis demanded. He held the bag up, shaking it. “And how do you explain _this_?”

“I’m expanding my horizons,” N quietly replied. The ninja were holding him in place, with his arms pinned behind his back so he had no hopes of running.

“In the company of a wanted criminal?” Ghetsis snapped.

“He’s not that bad!” N cried.

“How do you know? Do you even know what he _did_?”

“I DON’T CARE!” N screamed, struggling to no avail. “He _likes_ me!”

Ghetsis laughed cruelly. “Likes you? N, he’s a Trainer. Don’t ever let yourself forget — he’s using you.”

“No!”

Ghetsis’ eye(s?) flashed. “No?” He leant forward, sneering. “I see how it is.” Sarcastically, Ghetsis sang, “N knows best, N’s so mature now, such a clever grown up _fool_. Oh yes, N knows best, now that he’s a Trainer’s _tool_.”

“I’m using him, no—”

Ghetsis covered N’s mouth, dropping the bag on N’s foot. For a moment, N thought it may have been deliberate. “You know why he’s here. Why let yourself be deceived? But I know your lessons must be learnt. So go on, take your chance on him. Your success will be very slim. N, if he’s lying, don’t you come crying, Father knows best.”

The ninja dropped N. He fell to the ground, barely catching himself on his hands. When he looked up, Ghetsis was gone. Black’s bag was still there.

N bit his lip. He curled his fingers hesitantly around the strap, tugging it closer. He ran his fingers over the worn PokéBall symbol.

“…maybe he’s right,” N whispered. “Maybe there is something the matter with Black.” He stared up at the stars and sighed. “I just don’t see how such a cute boy… could be all bad.”

N shook his head bitterly. “How can I understand a Trainer? And yet he’s not quite…” He sighed, and had to start singing: “He’s nothing I expected. Everything’s so strange, and I don’t know how to think.”

N stood up, hand coiled tightly in Black’s bag strap as Zorua rushed to his side. N directed his song towards his oldest friend, hoping he’d be able to find some sense. “I can’t remain enraged at a world that he is in.”

“…seriously?” Zorua asked.

N nodded. He frowned at the bag. “But what if he… No. I can’t be afraid. If he really loves me, he’ll be here to stay.” With more confidence, N sang louder, “No I can’t be afraid, because truly, he’s not bright enough, to manage to fool me.”

Nodding now with certainty, N slung Black’s bag over his chest and returned to the campsite.

“… _seriously_?” Zorua repeated in a groan before following.

Ten minutes later when Black and Cheren returned, bickering about how totally _not_ lame Normal-type Gyms were, N was sitting with his eyes fixed on the glowing embers. Black’s bag was at his feet, Zorua at his side, glaring accusingly at Black.

“Hello,” N casually said.

Black dropped the firewood and dashed forward. “When’d you — where were you hiding that?” He stared at N’s hair expectantly.

N smiled wryly. “No, my ninjas delivered it for me.”

“The plural of ‘ninja’ is ‘ninja’,” Black suspiciously said.

“Both are acceptable, actually,” Cheren contributed.

In that moment, both Black and N decided that Cheren was a third wheel and that they would ditch him as soon as possible upon reaching Nimbasa.

“Why do you have _ninja_?” Black asked.

“King,” N smoothly replied. He picked up Black’s bag and held it out. “I have decided that you are trustworthy enough to deserve this back.”

Black eyed the bag suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s not a fake? Or a trap?”

“Of course not!” N snapped. He tossed the bag at Black. “Just take it, I don’t want to touch your filthy slave-enabling merchandise for a moment longer!”

“Calm _down_ N, it’s just we’re not at Nimbasa yet, and the deal —”

“The deal is whatever I decide it is,” N snapped. He started to coil his hair around himself. “I’m going to sleep, so _shut up_.”

N lay down and watched cautiously through the coils of his hair as Black exchanged confused looks with Cheren, shrugged, and opened his bag. This was it, the moment of trial. Black pulled out his belt of PokéBalls and started inspecting each with a face-splitting smile, muttering to each pokémon as though it could hear.

A Trainer who genuinely loved their pokémon. It was too much to handle. N closed his eyes, and though he felt completely drained, it wasn’t until hours later when Black and Cheren stopped reminiscing about the good old Trainer days that he finally managed to fall asleep.

*

It was sunrise when N shook Black awake, having apparently recovered from the previous night’s mood.

“How far is it to Nimbasa?” N asked.

“Morning to you too,” Black muttered, rubbing his eyes. He glanced around carefully. “Couple of hours.”

N nodded in approval. “Shall we ditch the dead weight?” He gestured to Cheren with utmost disdain.

“No, no,” Black sighed. “Give him a break, he hasn’t seen me in two years. He’s a bit bitter, is all.”

“What happened?” N asked.

Black was surprised that N apparently cared, but not surprised enough to answer honestly. “This and that. Life. Growing apart. Y’know.”

“…no, I do not know, that is why I asked.”

Forcing a laugh, Black shrugged. He reached over and gently shook Cheren. “Hey, Cherry, c’mon, we’re going.”

Cheren grumbled.

“Nimbasa’s full of coffeeeee,” Black crooned.

Cheren sat up. His eyes were bleary, but even a sleepy Cheren was highly alert. “We’re getting this over with, and then you’re coming with me, Black.”

“Probably,” Black said, non-committal.

N huffed loudly. He brandished the frying pan. “Hurry UP.”

It occurred to Black that maybe, just maybe, N was jealous.

The rest of the walk to Nimbasa was awkward, but Black felt elated. He had his pokémon back, Cheren was sleepy (which meant it would be easier to escape him later) and N was not attacking Cheren with the frying pan. When they reached the city limits and could clearly see the Ferris wheel rotating, N gave a tiny gasp of excitement.

“Sooo,” Black casually said, pointedly ignoring the Nimbasa Gym with all its obnoxious yellow lights even in the daytime. “What d’you wanna do first, N?”

“ _Everything_ ,” N breathlessly replied.

Black checked his watch. “Sure, we’ve got time. First, though, we’d probably better do something about your hair.”

N eyed Black suspiciously, but incredibly, did not attack him. Zorua didn’t even growl at Black. In fact, Zorua seemed to roll its eyes at him.

“It’s just, someone’s bound to step on it,” Black clarified. “And, I dunno, I used to do my sister’s hair… a lot…”

Cheren snorted. “You remember her too?”

“Duh, she’s on TV every other night,” Black replied, not looking at Cheren. “Look, I dunno N, you just need an up-do.”

N hesitated for a moment before nodding. He kept the frying pan close as Black gently, but embarrassingly efficiently, braided N’s hair. It wasn’t as soft as it looked or as Black had recalled from the healing moment, but then again, N’s hair had been wet then. It was shiny, it was distracting, and N hissed at him when Black touched the wrong parts of it. For the most part, N’s hair seemed eager to comply with Black’s wishes. It was nothing like any of Black’s earlier experiences with hair.

Even with Black’s embarrassing prowess and N’s hair’s magical compliance, it took well over two hours to braid N’s hair into something that didn’t drag along the ground. As soon as N realised he was safe, he started to run down the hill to the city.

Black looked over at Cheren. “Keep clear of Elesa.”

“You could just give back the Orbs,” Cheren pointed out.

“Not while I still need bargaining materials.”

Cheren tapped his foot impatiently. “Black, I’m not going to turn you in. You should know that.”

“I do,” Black assured him, though he truthfully had no idea of the sort. “But you’re not the only one I need to bargain with.”

Cheren stared incredulously.

“BLACK!” N’s voice called.

“My king calls,” Black said with a mock-bow. He dashed down the hill after N.

N immediately clung to Black, face pale and eyes wide. “There’s so many people.”

It was true. At the best of times, Nimbasa City was overcrowded, especially on weekends when children could successfully bug their parents into taking them to the theme park. For the festival, almost every street had been turned into a marketplace. Oddly enough, it looked like it was the same seven stalls of trinkets for all the family and food that was deep-fried or smothered in sugar repeated over and over.

“So what?” Black asked. “You beat Cheren up pretty easily. You can look after yourself.” He paused. “But I’ll be here just in case.”

N suddenly released him. “Good.” He looked around at the bizarre pokémon themed souvenirs and picked up a necklace themed around the symbol of Reshiram and Zekrom. “I will no doubt require money.”

“…okay, sure.” Black pulled N out of the way of a sunglasses-wearing man in a long trench coat. “You want to be on the Ferris wheel when the lights are turned on, right?”

“Yes,” N quickly replied.

“We’d probably better buy those tickets now, then. Just to be sure that we get it.”

N looked genuinely impressed. “You are thinking very rationally.”

It was hard to stay offended for long.

When N had said that he wanted to try everything, he had not been exaggerating. He tried all the food, shockingly showing no protest to the idea of eating pokémon (“I am an omnivore, it is therefore a necessary part of my diet to consume meat on occasion”) and no comprehension as to why Black regarded the deep-fried food as repulsive. He tried all the sideshow games and frequently won. He handed Black an enormous oshawott plush and declared, “It looks like you, so you’d better have it.” (Black pretended that N had perhaps observed that oshawott had been Black’s starter.) N even, despite Black’s protests and his own tears upon discovering what it was about, insisted that they go watch several showings of Pokémon Musicals. (“The pokémon didn’t look completely miserable,” N reluctantly admitted at the end.)

In fact, it seemed like hardly any time had passed when the sun suddenly started to hang low, turning the sky a fiery orange.

“Hadn’t we ought to go to the Ferris wheel?” N asked.

“Yeah,” Black reluctantly said. “Yeah, we had.”

The line for the Roundez-View Ferris Wheel was around past Elesa’s Gym. Black was particularly glad for the tickets, as the usher led them past the resentful line and very quickly past the Gym. They were led to the front, luckily enough due to N’s already impatient huffing, and permitted immediate entry to the waiting PokéBall themed cart.

It was at this point that N seemed to freeze. It was as though someone had hit pause on his remote, Black thought, realising for the first time how likely it was that N could be a robot.

“You first,” Black said, gently leading N inside.

N jolted and walked in, head held high even when he sat. Black sat down opposite him, smiling for reasons unknown.

“What’s up?” Black asked as the door was shut.

N shook his head stubbornly. The Ferris wheel lurched forward to allow the next cart’s occupants entry. N gave a slight yelp.

“…seriously, s’up?” Black repeated.

“I don’t ever want to go home,” N declared. “But I know that I must, at least for my own safety.”

“You don’t _have_ to,” Black replied. “I mean, I could probably help you out. But your dad’d miss you.”

N laughed mirthlessly. “He would not.”

“Then he’s an idiot.”

N stared at Black expressionlessly until the Ferris wheel started to move. He gasped loudly, turning to the window. He pressed his hands up against it as he stared down at the city, watching the lights come on one by one and the patterns they created.

Black had never been to the Nimbasa Light Festival before, but he still found his eyes locked on N the entire time. N’s smile was infection, and the light in his eyes was brighter than any springing up in the twilight. Black managed to look down long enough to notice N’s fingers tapping a beat.

“You can sing,” he said.

N look across, surprised.

“If you want,” Black clarified. “I mean, I don’t… I don’t mind.”

N shook his head. “I don’t know the words for how I’m feeling.”

Their eyes met only a moment before their lips. Black curled his hand around N’s as N leant closer, deepening the kiss.

It was, without a doubt, one of the best days of Black’s life, too. Suddenly he felt as though he could see the world as it was, and that maybe he was ready to stop stealing and go back to living in the world, in a respectable way. Preferably with N close.

“Hey, you’re missing the lights,” Black murmured against N’s lips.

N gave a noncommittal noise, kissing Black again.

“Mm, plenty of time for that later.”

N turned back to the window, staring out at the lights just as awed as before, fingers twined tightly with Black’s.

Due to the festival and the price of the tickets, the Ferris wheel made three times as many circuits as it normally would. N remained enthralled as the lights surged various colours, and Black similarly enthralled. It was strange that no amount of coaxing from his closest friends, Bianca, Cheren and White on top of several Gym Leaders more forgiving than Elesa, could convince him of what a freaky self-declared king with a light-fetish to match his pokémon fixation and magical hair seventy feet long could, but then again, nobody in the world could or would ever compare to N — hair included or excluded.

By the time the Ferris wheel stopped and they were pried out of the cart, Black was beginning to have some scepticism about the speed of his infatuation. The scepticism faded when N grabbed his hand and whispered very softly, “There’s something I want to show you… in private.”

Epiphany or no, Black was never going back to _full_ morality. He decided this for sure as N lead him to the outskirts of Nimbasa, to a place overshadowed by trees.

“Okay,” N whispered. “This will do.”

“So, what is it?” Black asked, with smoulder.

N reached into his hair and pulled out two spherical stones, one black and one white. He held out the white one to Black, eyes wide and glinting with something Black didn’t want to see.

“I want you to have this,” N said urgently. “You’ve shown me what is truth, so it’s only fitting that you become the Hero of Truth.”

Black was speechless. His mind refused to work, refused to process this bullshit.

“Do you not understand?” N continued, speaking so fast he sounded on the brink of breathlessness. “This is the Light Stone, it will unleash Reshiram, and if you’ll join with me, together we can create the formula to change the world.”

All Black could manage to say was, “You stole that… from Cheren.”

“Yes,” N dismissively said. “Stealing is acceptable, if it’s for the right cause, isn’t that what you said?”

“You said it wasn’t.”

N frowned. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“N, I'm… I’m just a thief,” Black quickly said. “I, I can’t change anything.”

“You changed me,” N immediately retorted. His eyebrows pulled together. “Even my father has heard of you. Not as a thief. As a Trainer. If you were to speak to the rest of them, if you were to support the world that needs to be created, one of black and white, of humans and pokémon, then —”

“No,” Black sternly said. “I wouldn’t be good PR.”

When N’s eyes met Black’s, they were full of betrayal. “I thought you were different. I thought you’d understand. I thought you _cared_ about _me_.”

“I do,” Black insisted. “That’s why I’m asking you not to do this.”

N’s face darkened. He took a step back, thrusting his hands back into his hair. “I see how it is.”

“N —”

Three white-haired people who looked remarkably like ninja appeared. One held Black back with embarrassing ease as the other two went to N’s side.

“Farewell Black,” N said.

Black had felt it enough times to recognise the pressure point the ninja struck. He collapsed with a mutter of “Dammit”, and everything faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter featured a mutilated version of the Mother Knows Best reprise from Tangled, and a play on lines from 'Part of Your World' from The Little Mermaid.


	5. The Other Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black confronts his demons while N juggles resurrecting legendary dragons and heartbreak.

The first thing Black became aware of when he woke up was being overwhelmingly uncomfortable. His head was pounding, he could hardly move due to the ropes binding his legs and arms, and it took an extreme effort to open his eyes.

Once he had, he’d wished he hadn’t bothered.

Sitting by his side, holding a sword half-draped across her lap, was White. Her eyes were narrowed with a fury suggesting that she wouldn’t mind at all getting blood on the very expensive-looking satin dress, as blue as her eyes, that she wore.

“Hello little brother,” White grinned toothily. “It’s been a while.”

Black struggled. This was the worst time for this shit. N was in trouble, or creating trouble, it was one and the same, and Black had to find a way to stop him.

White leant forward, raising the sword.

Alarmed, Black asked, “Is that real?”

“It’s a prop,” White admitted. “Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt if you don’t do as I say, answer my questions…”

“I think you need to chill out a b— _ow_!”

White smacked him on the forehead with the blade.

“You left us,” White spat. “You ran off and left us to clean up your mess, and you didn’t even have the decency to let us know whether or not you were alive, or coping okay, or anything!”

“Not really a questi — _ow_!”

This time she went for the shoulder.

“I know you fucked up, I know what you did was bad, but you should’ve let us _help you_. Not clean up after you!”

Black glared. “There’s more important things going on.”

Surprisingly, White didn’t hit him. “More important? You haven’t seen, spoken to or even _texted_ me in _twenty-six months_ and you expect me to accept that?”

“I don’t mean for two years, I mean right now!” Black cried. “There’s this kid, he’s got the Light Stone and the Dark Stone, and he wants to resurrect —”

“Reshiram and Zekrom, I know,” White growled. “I figured it out when I found Cheren tied up just outside the city with this note pinned to him.”

She held up a note written on floral paper.

            _To whomever it concerns,_

_Apologies for your no doubt horrified reaction to finding this body. He is not dead, simply asleep, as per Lord N’s commands._

_He also told us to write this note, saying it was polite. We are not convinced that it was wise._

_We theorise that he will not require a hospital as the dosage was only to make him sleep for several hours._

_Best regards,_

_Nobody you need to worry about_

Black’s eyes widened. “Is he okay?”

“Fine,” White airily replied. “Extremely pissed off with you, and rightly so, but fine. He told me all about this boy toy of yours who stole the Light and Dark Stones.”

Black winced.

“Since I definitely don’t feel like I have the faintest clue who you are any more, I’ll have to ask,” White continued, grip tightening around the prop sword. “Are you or are you not affiliated with Team Plasma as some sick twisted way of dealing with your guilt?”

“No!” Black cried. “He’s — he’s Plasma?”

White stared in disbelief. “Did you not realise? Did you honestly not realise? Has your mind grown THAT feeble?”

Black considered telling White how much worse she was making him feel, but that would only encourage her. She wanted to hurt him, as much as his absence had hurt her over the past two years. She didn’t seem to realise that Black had been hurting much, much worse. White got to go into PR, into making movies, into being a brightly burning star. All Black got was broken dreams kept at bay by pretending to be somebody else entirely. The Black who stole and lied and cheated was nothing at all like the crazy, clumsy and foolish (but passionate and driven and _brilliant_ ) boy he’d been, who’d never known when to stop, when enough was enough. He wasn’t the boy who’d spent weeks in one place trying to monitor all the pokémon there, no matter how Cheren scoffed and White mocked him, who’d talk Bianca through her every insecurity just to keep her from giving up on her dreams, who’d call home every second day just to hear Mom call him her ‘darling Hilly’, who’d taken on the Pokémon League and… He wasn’t the good friend, the good brother, the good son, the brilliant Trainer and PokéDex holder any more. He’d chosen to throw it all away, and it _hurt_. It hurt to not have any friends but his pokémon, who _still_ didn’t fully trust him again, not that he could blame them. It hurt to run from everything he’d once wanted, even if his cleverness made him a brilliant thief and law-breaker, and sometimes, when he was caught up in being Black the Thief, Black was almost proud of himself again.

It was better to be the thief.

It hurt less.

“Let me go,” Black loudly said. “I have to stop N.”

White stared at him, frowning. “Is this your way of trying to make amends?”

“Just let me go!”

“You know, you’re the only one who blames you,” White continued.

“Shut UP about that!” Black shouted.

White didn’t. “Yeah, you messed up. It was an accident, though. Everybody knows it was an accident, and Alder forgives you, don’t you remember him saying so?”

Black struggled, trying to work his hands free so he could at least cover his ears and not hear White say it.

It didn’t work.

“Everybody knows you didn’t mean to kill his volcarona.”

Black collapsed back against the bed, scrunching his eyes tightly shut.

White gasped. “Unless… unless you’re acting like this because… you _did_ …”

“Shut up,” Black hoarsely said. “I didn’t mean to, but… but nothing… nothing makes that better.”

Black didn’t need to see her to know that White was glaring; he could feel the heat of it. “Stealing and being a general jackass definitely doesn’t. That was a pretty poor life choice.”

Black forced his eyes open, ignoring the tears. “You have to let me go. I’m the only one who can stop N.”

“And why’s that?”

“He —” Black stopped himself from saying _it_. “He wants me to rule the world with him. He’ll, he’ll at least listen to what I say.”

White rolled her eyes. “Why do you always attract the _crazy_ ones, Black? First that hiker, now this guy…” She sighed heavily. “Fine, I’ll let you go after him. On one condition.”

“You can come,” Black said. “Just… don’t talk to me about… that.”

White shrugged. “Better than nothing.” She lifted up her dress, pulled a knife from the holster on her thigh and cut Black free. “We’d better go quickly, if we want a head start on Cheren.”

Black blinked. “Um. Yeah.”

White tossed him his bag. Black stood up, slinging it over his shoulder.

“…you’re not gonna traverse the countryside in that, are you?” he sceptically asked.

“Nah,” White said, pulling off the heels. “Just gotta change my shoes.”

At least White didn’t seem any different. Or maybe, Black mused as he watched her dig out her old combat boots, maybe it was just that two years was so long ago that he couldn’t remember properly. Either way, it was good to have her back and to know that she didn’t hate him too much to forgive him.

*

The Seven Sages were gathered once again for an update from one member of the Shadow Triad. None of them could tell which one it was — or in the case of Ghetsis, simply didn’t care.

“Lord N has stolen the Light and Dark Stones from his foolish companions,” the ninja reported. “He is sulking and being especially irritating, and he keeps trying to ask me questions about how to make a boy like him, but he is attempting to reach Dragon Spiral Tower.”

“Attempting?”

“Yes. He does not know where it is and is refusing directions.”

Ghetsis chuckled. “A true king.”

“Sage Ghetsis, is it wise for our puppet king to have a such a strong will of his own?” Rood nervously asked.

“Like any moron, he succumbs easily to songs,” Ghetsis replied.

“…wait, what?”

“Gentlemen,” Ghetsis sang, “our plans have come together at last. But we can’t delay, we need to act fast.”

“Do-ing whaaaat,” the Sages sang back.

The ninja crouching on the table rolled his eyes.

“We must find my son,” Ghetsis trilled. “We must find Natural Faggot.”

There was a long silence.

“…oh my god Sage Ghetsis, you can’t just call homosexual people faggots.”

Ghetsis scowled. “Let’s just go.”

“Where?”

“Half of us will go help N,” Ghetsis said. “The other half will stay here and prepare the Plasma Castle. And I will find this boy N craves so, just in case either of them decide to try anything.”

The Sages bowed to each other before going their separate ways, leaving the ninja crouching on the table in exasperation.

“Why couldn’t a rich duke with no eccentricities or world domination plans save us from that rabid train?” he muttered.

*

White’s dress was ripped to halfway up her thighs and splattered with mud by the time they reached Dragonspiral Tower, but she responded to Black’s comment with a vague shrug.

“It’s not like this was an expensive dress or anything,” she replied. “It was only five hundred thousand pyen.”

Apparently a TV career had made White lose all sense when it came to money. Then Black remembered that she never really had any.

“So,” White said, staring up at the tower. “You think your boy-toy’s up there?”

“He’s a boy, and apparently he thinks of me as a toy, but he’s _not my boy-toy_ ,” Black cried.

“Okay, but is he up there?”

“Probably.”

White nodded and started walking towards it. Panicked, Black grabbed her arm.

“ _What_ , Hilderp?”

“You can’t just go charging in,” Black replied. “They’ll hear you. He’s got ninjas with him.”

“Isn’t it ninja?”

“Cheren says both are acceptable.”

“Oh. Well, that must be right then.” White frowned at the Tower. “So what do you expect us to do? Just let him summon the damn Legendary Dragons and expect to be able to fight him off after?”

Black shook his head. “No, we’ll split up. You’ll go charging in and I’ll climb up the side. I’m pretty ninja myself.”

White doubled over in laughter.

“I am!”

“Whatever, Hilderp,” she chuckled. She pulled a PokéBall from her belt. “I’m goin’ in.” She gave a loud shout of, “PLASMA BASTARDS, I’M COMIN’ TO GETCHA!” before charging in.

“My fucking life,” Black groaned.

*

N had sunk to the ground to cry for the fifth time during their ascent of the Dragonspiral Tower. He did not notice the looks of pure frustration the two members of the Shadow Triad exchanged, nor one mouth to the other, “This only the second floor!”

“Why didn’t he say yes?” N wailed. “He kissed me! I thought we were going to be together FOREVER!”

Over his head, the ninjas exchanged a mouthed exchange about whether or not to knock N out and drag him up the Tower already.

“We can’t harm our king.”

“He’s not a real king, he’s only a pretend king.”

“I know, but what if _he_ realises that? Can you imagine how pathetic the whining would be?”

They paused and stared down at N as he wailed about how badly his chest hurt.

“IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE AM I HAVING A HEART ATTACK IS THAT WHAT HEARTBREAK IS IS IT LITERALLY HAVING A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE SOMEBODY HURT YOU SO BADLY?!”

Seeing an opening, one ninja leant down and said, “My Lord, if this is the pain that Trainer has inflicted upon you, imagine what he has done to the pokémon he keeps.”

“BUT THEY LOOOOOVE HIIIIIM TOOOOOOO!”

The ninja threw up his hands in the universal sign for ‘Fuck this shit I’m outtie’. He was just about to hit a pressure point on N’s neck when they heard the shout.

“PLASMA BASTARDS, I’M COMIN’ TO GETCHA!”

The ninja pulled his hand away from N’s neck and ran down the stairs.

“Who is that?” N asked, sniffling pathetically. “It sounds like a girl. Why is a girl chasing me? I don’t understand.”

“We know,” the remaining ninja grumbled. “We must hurry, my lord. Before our pursuer can stop your plan.”

N wibbled but stood up and continued up the Tower at last. The ninja was so relieved that he missed the grappling hook shoot up past the window.

They made it to the floor involving a trap of circular paths before N started crying again, wailing something about circular motions and betrayal.

“Again? Really?” the second ninja mouthed, appearing behind them. “We do not have time for this. I have managed to delay the girl, but she is powerful. Insanely powerful.”

“Do you ever think that, eternal gratitude for saving our lives and all, serving Ghetsis is not worth putting up with his son?” the other mouthed back.

They both started down at N, who was barking in distress at Zorua, and agreed that it was not worth it at all.

*

With some difficulty, Black hauled himself up the last few feet to the top of the tower. For a minute he panted on all fours. Then he heard the roaring of dragons.

“Oh crap,” Black gasped.

There, standing before N, was a giant, muscular black dragon with glowing red eyes and a glowing blue turbine butt. Flying high above them was a feathery white dragon shooting flames from its own turbine butt.

“This is all kinds of wrong,” Black groaned, leaping to his feet. “N!”

N turned to face him. The ninjas around him winced for some reason, but a smirk crossed N’s lips. He threw his arms out. “You see, Black? Zekrom has chosen me!”

“What about Reshiram?” Black asked, eyeing it sceptically.

“…Zekrom has chosen me! And together, we shall apply the formula to change the world. We will liberate the pokémon and save them from the oppression of Trainers. We will go to the Pokémon League and defeat their Champion, and once I have replaced him, everybody will _have_ to do whatever I say,” N ranted frantically. “I will ask you only one more time — join me! Change the world for the better with me!”

Black watched Reshiram circling as he replied, “N, I might be probably falling in love with you, but I know a terrible idea when I see one. And this is definitely one.”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW!” N shouted. He started pulling his plaited hair out. “FINE! DON’T BE MY QUEEN! YOUR LOSS!”

“N, seriously, I —”

“SHUT UP!” He shook his hair out so it was hanging long and loose. Zekrom sniffed it appreciatively as N climbed on its back. “YOU ARE THE EVIDENCE THAT HUMANITY IS CRUEL, SELFISH AND HORRIBLE IN EVERY WAY!”

Black winced.

Without another word, Zekrom took to the sky. N’s hair trailed far behind as they flew off, towards the Pokémon League.

The ninjas stared at Black.

Black stared back.

“You are clearly insane, if you like that,” one ninja said.

The other elbowed him and they both disappeared.

Black peered up at Reshiram and called, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me?”

Reshiram gave a beautiful cry. It circled around one last time, lower, before landing with such force that the entire Tower shook.

“I don’t think I know a whole lot, and I make a lot of dumb choices, but I know pokémon and humans shouldn’t exist in different worlds,” Black continued to say, apprehensively staring up at the dragon’s powerful-looking jaw. Did it eat liars or something? “We all evolved from the same goo, after all. So humans should probably count as a breed of pokémon.”

Reshiram stretched out its neck.

Swallowing his fear, Black reached out a shaking hand. It settled on Reshiram’s neck. The feathers were mind-bogglingly enormous but silky and smooth.

Reshiram purred.

“So I’ll do?” Black asked. “Just until this is all over with?”

Reshiram nuzzled against him with such force, it lifted Black from the ground.

“O-okay,” Black gasped. “As long as you want me, then.” He pulled a PokéBall from his bag. It seemed offensive to hold out a simple PokéBall to a pokémon straight from legends who had apparently destroyed Unova a couple of times. “If you want. It’ll make travelling easier. Is all.”

Reshiram nuzzled the Ball and disappeared in a flash of light.

“…ohmigawd,” Black gasped. He turned and ran down the Tower until he found White, lip bloody and knuckles bruised, running up too.

“What happened?” White growled. “Where’s that ninja bastard? He used a smoke bomb on me, the coward!”

“White,” Black gasped, holding out the PokéBall. “White, Reshiram chose me.”

“So Zekrom chose N?” White demanded.

Black nodded.

“Dammit Black, can’t you have a _healthy_ relationship just _once_?” she sighed in frustration. “Where to now?”

“The Pokémon League,” Black replied. Then it dawned on him. The Pokémon League. Alder. He almost dropped Reshiram’s Ball as the colour drained from his face. “White. _The Pokémon League_.”

“Yeah, so let’s go!”

Black shook his head. “I… I can’t.”

White rolled her eyes in frustration. “You have to! What’s going to beat Zekrom if it’s not Reshiram, huh?”

“Kyurem?”

“Don’t be stupid!”

Black stared down at the Ball in his hand, frowning. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t want to do any of this. Why am I bothering? What difference does it make to me?”

White slapped him across the face.

Holding a hand to his stinging cheek, Black hissed in pain, “That really hurt!”

“Good,” White snapped. “What difference does it make to you? Come on, are you willing to give up your pokémon? Just because you’re too pathetic to face Alder again?”

“…no,” Black admitted. “You’re right.”

White nodded, rolling her eyes.

“Did you really have to hit so hard?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

Black rubbing his cheek one last time before placing Reshiram’s Ball in his bag. “Okay. I think we’re gonna have to go with a similar approach.”

“What, splitting up again so I get to do the dirty work?” White dryly asked.

“Uh, if I just walk into the Pokémon League they’ll arrest me.”

“…oh yeah, because you’re a complete jerk now.”

“Yeah.” Black frowned as he plotted. “How about you go in like you’re challenging the Elite Four again? Just because that’s the sort of thing you do on your days off intense journalism?”

“Well, it is,” White thoughtfully said. “And that way I can already be in position, you think? Even though N has a head-start again and is on a massive Legendary dragon?”

“You haven’t seen his sense of direction. You’ll get there first.”

White shrugged. “I guess I have to trust you on this. But what’ll you do?”

Black’s hand clenched around his bag strap. “I’ll race to the top and kidnap Alder. N can’t become Champion if he can’t find the current one.”

“That’s not gonna make them any less likely to arrest you,” White flatly retorted.

“This is more important than that.”

“If you say so.” White pulled out her X-Transceiver and started texting. “I’ll tell everybody to keep an eye out for Plasma Grunts. Especially Cheren and Bianca. We’ve got to make sure they’re not going to interfere and overwhelm us.”

“…as if Plasma Grunts could.”

White laughed. “Yeah, okay, it’s just so they don’t hate me later.”

She didn’t deny the possibility of them hating Black. Honestly, Black couldn’t blame them.

“I’ll see you there,” he said. He straightened his hat and started walking down the Tower.

“Good luck,” White called.

Black had never needed luck before. All he’d ever needed were his skills. This time, he could definitely find some use for it.


	6. The Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> N takes on the Pokémon League.

N stood outside the Pokémon League building, staring up at it in amazement.

“I thought it would be more attractive,” Zekrom observed. “Last time I destroyed a government building, it was a castle.”

“I would hate to know of a castle that had been built on the suffering of pokémon!” N exclaimed. “Thank you for destroying it.”

“You’re very welcome, dear.”

The Shadow Triad appeared beside them.

“My Lord N, the Sages have asked me to inform you that they are awaiting you at the summit of the Pokémon League,” the first ninja said. “Also, Ghetsis said to tell you that ‘Daddy is very proud of his precious baby boy’.”

N preened. He brushed back his hair some (not very well, as Zorua was in it, and also there was a lot of it) before walking up to the building and bursting inside.

“Oh my,” a woman who looked deceptively like a purrloin at first glance gasped, “it’s like a fanfic come real.”

“Female human, we will do battle!” N declared. “Not that I want to, I just must to achieve my dreams.”

“Gladly,” the woman purred.

N sent Zekrom forth.

The Shadow Triad disappeared to the summit of the League to report.

“My Lord Ghetsis,” they murmured as one.

“N is battling?” Ghetsis asked.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Perfect,” Ghetsis smirked. “Everything is going just as planned.”

He missed the grappling hook clinging to the side of the building.

*

Alder had an office, and surprisingly, it wasn’t gathering dust. Alder was sitting at the desk, bored and signing forms, when Black broke in through the window. He looked up in excitement, then amazement.

“Hilbert?”

Black scowled.

“Oh, right, you don’t like your name,” Alder remembered. “It just seems strange to call you Black, since most people curse the thief and all.”

Black reached into his bag and pulled out the gun. He pointed it at Alder. “Come with me. I’m taking you hostage.”

Alder stared. “Is that… a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Carved from soap?”

“...Dove soap,” Black begrudgingly admitted. “Seemed ironic.”

“Oh, it is,” Alder replied without laughing. “Why are you taking me hostage?”

“Money,” Black immediately lied. “Just, come on, we’re going to, uh… Village Bridge. Or something.”

“Your heart doesn’t seem to be in this,” Alder observed. “I think something else is going on. And you do owe me some honesty.”

Black sighed. He tossed the gun in the bin. “Team Plasma had a secret weapon. A master of pokémon and seduction with magical hair.”

“…magical hair?”

Black nodded. “He’s unleashed Zekrom and is coming here to challenge you for the Championship. Then he’s gonna make everybody release their pokémon and create a utopia for them.”

“Hmm, that seems like a foolish and poorly thought-out plan,” Alder observed. “A bit like a master Trainer deciding to run away and become a thief.”

“I’m sorry,” Black said. “It made sense at the time, but it was dumb. And it was unfair on you. Okay, I get it, I’ve learnt my lesson, but _seriously_ , there’s a crisis going on and we have to get out of here.”

“Can’t,” Alder replied. “I’ve already accepted his challenge.”

“ _What_?!”

“His hair really is glorious,” Alder mused, grinning goofily. “And the cut of that dress.”

“…hey!!”

“Whaaaaaat?”

Black’s face met his palm. “Look, can’t you do anything?”

“I’m sure I can win,” Alder replied. “Your friend seems to only have a zorua and Zekrom.”

Black had forgotten how impossible Alder was due to the whole cloud of grief and regret thing.

“I’ll be back,” he said before climbing back out the window. He slid down the rope until he was crouching at the base of the building, looking for White.

Cheren arrived first. Deciding that would do, Black called out, “Cherry!”

A scowl immediately crossed Cheren’s face, but as expected, he walked over and immediately launched into a lecture. “You don’t _really_ have the right to use stupid nicknames for me any more, after abandoning me for two years and then letting your psychotic boyfriend attack me.”

“I didn’t know!” Black cried. “I had no idea N was capable of being so… so…”

“Sociopathic? Prone to genocidal behaviours? Evil?”

“…well… yeah.”

Cheren rolled his eyes. “You were thinking with your dick.”

“Little bit,” Black muttered.

“And I was right.”

“Very right.”

In the absence of glasses to adjust, Cheren straightened his tie. “You were planning on kidnapping Alder, correct?”

“Yep, he wouldn’t let me though.”

Cheren’s stare was too exasperated to qualify for the usual deadpan. “You are a completely terrible criminal.”

Black pulled Reshiram’s PokéBall from his bag. “I have a secret weapon, though. Reshiram’s agreed to help us.”

“Let’s hope this one works better than your last plan,” Cheren bitterly muttered.

“It will,” Black said, tucking Reshiram’s Ball away. “I can’t let N do this.”

“Good, it would be insufferable to endure living with him in control of the region.”

Bianca turned up next. She looked shockingly adorable, gasped at the sight of Black, then punched him.

“HEY!”

“Oh, Black!” she cried, pulling him into her arms. Black noticed that her chest had grown too, and desperately wished he hadn’t. “You’re a jerk, you’re a terrible friend, but dammit, I missed you!”

“You too,” Black gasped. “Where’s White?”

“Getting her camera crew.”

“…what.”

“She said this was too fantastic to miss out on filming,” Bianca explained. “Plus, her company was called by someone from Team Plasma recommending they go and film it all live.”

“So Team Plasma wants N to do this?” Black deduced, frowning.

“Obviously, they _do_ want to rule the region.”

White turned up with a cameraman, a sound guy and wearing her old Trainer outfit. She ran over to them and immediately started ranting. “Okay, Bianca, you’re a pretty well-known researcher now so I’m gonna need you to hang back and explain to the dumbasses in the audience why everything is so bad. Cheren, just be yourself. Your sassy self, if possible. And Black, I’m gonna need you to fly up at the crucial moment with Reshiram.”

“Um. What.”

“For good TV,” White groaned. “Hero of Truth appearing to fight the evil Hero of Ideal! It’s perfect!”

“It is?”

“Hello, don’t you _know_ the way drama works after doing nothing but creating it for years?” White gave an ‘urgh’ of frustration before turning to her crew. “Let’s get up there. I’ve gotta do my intro.”

They hurried off.

“White’s gone all tabloid,” Black realised. “Somehow, it just seemed more authoritative on TV.”

“Idiot,” Cheren sighed.

“You’d better do what she says,” Bianca said grimly. “She gets so upset if you ruin her broadcasts.”

“What about if we lose and Team Plasma gets to rule over Unova?”

“So long as you don’t screw up her broadcast, you’ll live.”

Black nodded uneasily.

“Speaking of, let’s go,” Bianca said, grabbing Cheren by the arm.

“How’m I supposed to —”

“You’ll know!” Bianca called back as they ran up the stairs.

Sighing, Black decided he might as climb back up into Alder’s office.

“Oh, you’re back,” Alder observed. He strung his PokéBalls around his neck. “That feisty young flower’ll be challenging me soon.”

“You should say no,” Black replied, sitting in the windowsill. “I don’t think anybody has ever told him ‘no’.” He frowned. “Well, except when he asked to leave that tower.”

“That seems like a very big thing to be refused.”

Black shrugged. “It was a nice tower.”

“What will you do, if I lose?” Alder asked.

Black frowned. “I don’t want it to come to that. I’d rather not face him.”

“He must be very remarkable, as he’s led you to facing me again,” Alder observed.

Face turning red, Black shrugged. “Whatever. He’s, just, N.”

“Is that his name? A letter?”

“Yeah.”

Alder laughed. “Well, no wonder.”

“Yeah. Except he thinks he’s… fixing the world, I guess? But he’s not.”

“The world is a very complicated place, and unfortunately, emotions are responsible for making it all the more confusing,” Alder serenely said. “But, that’s just part of the fun.”

“…I guess…”

Alder looked to the door. “Well, I had better be going.”

“Good luck.”

Black tried not to think about how freakishly natural it was to talk to Alder again, despite everything. He didn’t think he’d ever be Alder’s favourite again, but that was definitely okay.

How was he supposed to know when White wanted his dramatic entrance, though? He fiddled with Reshiram’s PokéBall as he sat in the windowsill, listening for sounds of the battle. He could faintly hear them, and could definitely hear N’s shouting voice at times (which made his chest tighten), but that wasn’t really enough to go by.

He almost fell out of the window when his X-transceiver went off. There was a single text message from Bianca saying: ‘ _Now’_.

Black sent out Reshiram. The dragon roared and stretched out its wings, swooping through a full barrel roll before staring expectantly at Black.

“Hi,” Black lamely said before jumping onto its back. He gently gripped some feathers and tried to ignore how unsettling the feeling of Reshiram’s wings flapping was. It was like the movement would knock him off at any time. “Let’s… go up, okay? To the top?”

Reshiram roared again before flying up high. Black could see N, triumphant, Alder, on his knees in defeat, a man who looked remarkably like N, except with paler and more sensible green hair and a ridiculously not-sensible-or-appealing dress laughing loudly. Standing off to the side were some ninja, more old guys in dresses, god, and Elesa was there… and Cheren, Bianca and White with her film crew. White was waving at him.

“Okay, go, land, please?”

Reshiram soared down, landing with a thud that shook the entire building. Black patted its massive head before sliding down.

“Black,” N gasped. “You… Reshiram chose you, of course…”

“N,” the man-in-a-dress-who-was-clearly-N’s-father started to say.

“Shut up Ghetsis!” N snapped. He climbed up onto Zekrom’s back. “So, Black, you’ve come here to try and stop me? To see what is strong, Truth or Ideals?”

“N, this is stupid,” Black called. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“You have to!” N shouted. “You have Reshiram. I have Zekrom. We have to see —”

“We don’t have to do a damn thing,” Black replied. “I’d definitely appreciate it if you’d listen to me for just a few minutes, though.”

“But you are a human. You speak in lies.”

“Then I’ll _sing_ my feelings at you if I have to,” Black snapped.

“Go on, then.”

Black blinked. “Uh… with… with all these people around? A-and the camera?”

“PRETEND WE’RE NOT EVEN HERE!” the cameraman shouted.

Black flipped him off before continuing, “N, um, wouldn’t you rather hear it on your own?”

“I don’t really care who else hears it. I only wish to hear it immediately.”

Black looked around. Everybody, even Ghetsis and the damn ninjas, had stopped to stare.

“Uh… well…”

N’s eyes narrowed.

“Okay! Okay! Um…” Did songs have to rhyme? What kind of tune was Black supposed to follow? Dammit, why hadn’t he gone with Cheren to all those musicals?

“I’m not waiting much longer,” N declared.

“All those days, running from the past. All those days, chasing down a new dream… they were never meant to last. Now you’re here, suddenly I know. My only dream is you. And at last I see the light, and it’s like the fog has lifted. Now I don’t know why I’d ever bothered taking flight. Suddenly everything is clear, and I know I’ve nothing to fear. Not now that I’m with you.”

N sighed happily.

Relieved, Black stopped.

“Keep singing,” N demanded.

Black found back a ground. “Uh, okay… In the beginning I thought, no way you’re worth the aggravation, there’s no chance, no way, I won’t say it, it’s too cliché, I won’t say I’m in love. But there was something sweet, and almost kind, yet you were mean and you were coarse and very unrefined, but now you’re dear, and I’m so sure, I wonder why I didn’t see it there before.”

N gestured for more.

“It’s new, and a bit alarming, who’d’ve ever thought that this could be? It’s true that you’re no prince charming, but there’s something there. Something that’s worth being shared.” Pause. “But then I thought, forget about that guy. Forget about the way you fell into his eyes, forget about his weird charms, just forget about love… Now I realise, love is never wrong, and so it never dies. There’s a perfect world shining in your eyes, and if only they could feel it too, they’d know, love will find a way. And on the Ferris wheel, I was watching how you light up, the sky. You’re the fairest maid I’ve ever met, you were made…”

“To finish your duet,” N sang. “And together, we’ll craft a whole new world, for you and me.”

“Let’s not go that far,” Black hastily said. “Don’t let this burning desire turn us to sin.”

N was still staring, much happier, but still expectant.

“It’s a long way down from a lover’s leap, but falling’s half the fun. And for the first time ever, we’re seeing it eye to eye. I just had to dig down deep inside myself, to find out what I need, the simple bare necessities, and it’s nobody else but Y-O-U.”

Panting heavily, Black ignored White’s snickering, Cheren’s pained look of hipster exasperation, Alder’s cooing of approval and stared up at N. N’s entire face was lit up. It was like all the lights of Nimbasa compressed into one smile.

“Oh, Black,” N happily sighed. He slid from Zekrom’s back and started running to Black’s arms.

“Too gay to function,” one Shadow Triad member mouthed to the others.

“I’ll say,” Elesa said, winking at the ninja.

“NO!” Ghetsis screamed. He grabbed the end of N’s hair and started reeling him in. “FINISH. WHAT. YOU. STARTED.”

Zekrom roared loudly.

“SHUT UP!” Ghetsis spat.

Zekrom cowered.

“I HAVE WORKED TOO HARD FOR TOO LONG TO HAVE MY PLANS BE RUINED BY A GAY LITTLE SONG!” Ghetsis roared. “I. AM. PERFECTION!”

“In _that_ outfit?” Elesa scoffed.

Black ran forward and grabbed a loose bundle of N’s hair. “Give him back!”

“You’re hurting me!” N whined.

“Sorry!” Black yelped, releasing the hair. N stumbled until he was almost within Ghetsis’ reach. Black ran forward, not properly thinking, and shoved N aside.

When Ghetsis grabbed him instead, Black realised that maybe that hadn’t been the best idea. He knew it definitely hadn’t been when Ghetsis stabbed him in the stomach.

“NO!” N shrieked. He wasn’t the only one, but Black could hear his voice clearest as he collapsed.

“OHMYGOD DID THAT GUY JUST KNIFE THE HERO OF TRUTH?!”

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

“HE CAN’T DIE! HE OWES MY ZEBSTRIKA A NEW SCARF!” Elesa shouted.

“LET ME KILL HIM!” White shouted. “NINJA, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY, I AM NOT KIDDING, I WILL KILL YOU ALL.”

“Shut that pathetic little girl up,” Ghetsis called.

The ninja threw a dart at a pressure point on White’s neck. Ghetsis laughed as she too collapsed.

“White,” Black gasped.

Ghetsis pointed the dagger at N. “Now there is nothing holding you back. You will do what I raised you to do and defeat the Champion! Then you will continue to be obedient, I will continue to use your hair, and my plan will be a complete success as though none of this had ever happened.”

“No,” N repeated, not screaming, but voice shaking with rage. “I will not be used by you. I am _King_.”

“You are a moron, in fact, if you believe that is real.”

“I will never stop fighting you!” N shouted. “…not unless you let me heal Black.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Black said weakly.

“I’m not,” N replied.

“Fine,” Ghetsis said, lowering the dagger. “I was looking forward to seeing the light of life leaving his eyes, but, fine.”

N dropped to his knees at Black’s side.

“Don’t do this,” Black hissed. He felt around for something, anything…

“Don’t tell me what to do,” N replied. His fingers delicately traced Black’s face, before unzipping his jacket. There was blood everywhere. Judging from N’s gasp, it looked as bad as it felt. “Black, I do love you. I love you at least as much as you love me.”

“Arrogant to the end,” Black mumbled. There. A ninja’s knife. Black tried to lean forward to kiss N, but it hurt too much. “Kiss me?”

As N leant forward, Black ran a hand through N’s hair, gathering it. Quickly as he could, he sliced it off at approximately the nape of N’s neck.

“No!” N cried, grasping at his hair. It was rapidly lightening to a pale green.

Ghetsis was screaming. He fell to his knees, grabbing at the severed sixty-eight feet of hair, and started to cry.

“Oh,” Black mumbled. “So that’s what happens. It stops magicking.”

Then he fell limp in N’s arms.

“Black!” N shouted. “No! You’re not allowed to die!”

“…well,” one of the ninja announced. “We’ll be leaving, then.”

Cheren scoffed. “No you —”

They disappeared for a moment, reappeared by the sobbing Ghetsis, then disappeared again with him.

“— don’t,” he lamely finished. He didn’t lament for long before running over to Black’s side.

N was pressing Black’s hand deep into his hair as he sang, “Flower gleam and glow, let your powers shine, make Dialga revert, bring back what once was mine.”

“What is he —?” somebody asked.

“His hair heals,” Cheren explained. “Apparently.”

But his hair had been cut. Could it even work? N kept singing for the vain hope. “Heal what has been hurt, change Arceus's design.”

“Go get a doctor or something,” Cheren called to Bianca.

“R-right,” the blonde squeaked. She wiped her eyes as she ran.

N leant closer. His tears were falling on Black’s face, but Black remained unresponsive. “Bring back what once was mine… what once was mine…”

Nothing happened.

N threw his arms around Black’s body and dissolved into loud, hysterical crying. If he’d listened to Black’s scepticism, if he’d taken more time to look at the world rather than just waltz in and think he knew how it ought to be run…

Well, N did definitely have improvements in mind. Very good ones, in fact. But he still should have listened to Black.

“…hey. Hey N. Hey,” Zekrom called.

“What?!” N snapped.

“You don’t need to shout,” Zekrom whispered. “I was just wondering if we’re still creating that ideal world of yours.”

“What’s the point?” N wailed. “I don’t know what to think any more.”

Zekrom cooed affectionately and rubbed its massive head against N’s back.

“Your name was N, wasn’t it?” the Champion awkwardly asked as he crouched down beside them.

N nodded against Black’s chest.

“Maybe you should let him go,” Alder suggested.

“No! Never!” N cried.

“It just might make it easier for him to bre—”

Black coughed.

N gasped, shaking him frantically. “Black?! Black!! Say something!!”

“That… really… fucking… hurts,” Black groaned.

N dropped him, leaping away. Black’s head thumped against the ground.

“…ow.”

Alder silently started checking Black’s wound. Black wouldn’t’ve protested if he’d been able; it seemed better than N doing it.

“I thought you were dead!” N sobbed. He clung to Zekrom for support. “I thought, I thought…”

“Did you even bother to check my pulse?” Black asked.

“I don’t know what that is,” N cried.

Cheren was dragging White over. Apparently she was too heavy for him to carry, but Black was relieved to see her chest rising and falling as though she was simply in a deep sleep.

“I’m fine,” Black said, staring around at them. He felt more alive than he had in two years. “Completely fine.”

“Other than the giant stab wound,” Cheren snarked. “Honestly, what did you _expect_ to happen?”

“Crisis adverted, right?” Black asked.

N roughly shoved Cheren out of the way to crouch by Black’s side, holding his hand. “Right. I’ll, leave my tower for a bit long, before I next decide to fix the world.”

Black smiled at him. “Cool.”

N kissed Black deeply and Black decided, yep, definitely better than a life of thieving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs Black sang in his Disney mash-up were: 'I See the Light' from Tangled, 'I Won't Say I'm In Love' from Hercules, 'Something There' from Beauty and the Beast, 'Forget About Love' from Aladdin 2, 'Love Will Find A Way' from Lion King 2, 'Ma Belle Evangeline' from The Princess and the Frog, 'True Love's Kiss' from Enchanted, 'A Whole New World' from Aladdin, 'Hellfire' from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 'Upendi' from Lion King 2, 'I 2 I' from A Goofy Movie, 'Dig A Little Deeper' from The Princess and the Frog, 'Bare Necessities' from The Jungle Book AND FINALLY 'Nobody Else But You' from A Goofy Movie.


	7. Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black and N are finally getting married.

White checked her makeup in her compact. It was appropriately light, but there enough to avoid any light reflecting off her skin once the cameras started rolling. “Okay, I think we’re good.” She snapped it closed and turned to her cameraman. “Ready Ty?”

Ty adjusted the lens. “Yep, got a clear shot.”

“Then let’s start, in three, two, one…”

The camera whirred to life. White smiled brightly, holding her microphone professionally and standing straight.

“Good morning, dear viewers. Today is of course, a very big day for Unova, and one we’ve been eagerly counting down! Our dear Heroes of Truth and Ideals are finally getting married.”

White paused, grinning brightly regardless of her feelings. The network would add in a cheer-track before her story aired.

“Of course, we all vaguely remember three years ago when their dramatic battle atop the Pokémon League uncovered the sinister inner workings of Pokémon Activist Group and World Domination Planners, Team Plasma, and saved Champion Alder from certain death. What we all definitely remember is Black, the Hero of Truth, singing a medley of children’s songs about love in order to woo N, the Hero of Ideals.”

Ty giggled silently.

“The resulting clip on YouTube is at approximately three hundred and forty million. This is only a small example of the popularity Black and N’s story has enjoyed: Elite Four member Shauntal’s novelisation won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and was adapted into a movie, which grossed two billion world-wide last year and reportedly inspired N to do some reverse-wooing and ask Black to marry him!”

More like N had whined at Black until Black asked if N even knew what marriage was, N admitted that he didn’t, they fought over that for about a week, then suddenly stopped and just decided it would be good to get married after all. White and Cheren had pretty much organised the whole thing, because otherwise, it probably would have ended up some bizarre combination of all Black’s nerding, N’s hard-on for nature and the ceremony would undoubtedly have been performed half in Klingon, half in the language of zorua.

“Being the sister of a groom,” White allowed herself a moment to almost smirk, “I’ve been given permission to interview them both before the wedding.”

Or more like she’d whined at them until they caved and let her. It wasn’t like they were supposed to have groom’s maids or anything, that just sounded sleazy. Bianca thought it sounded cute, pointed out that both Black and N only had one male friend and that was Cheren, Cheren and N denied being friends, and Black said he honestly didn’t think they needed aid walking down an aisle now that N’s hair wasn’t seventy feet long.

“So! Let’s go in and check it out, shall we?”

“Cut,” Ty said. “Another cool one, prez.”

White tossed her hair back. “We’d better check that the love-birds are okay before going in.”

“Why wouldn’t they be okay?”

“Oh, Black’s pretty prone to freaking out,” White explained. “Always has been. Kind of why he ran away to be a thief for years, apparently.”

“So you think he’ll get cold feet?”

White nodded.

“…can I film it?”

White considered it, then decided to be a good sibling and replied, “Over my dead body.”

“You’re a tough bitch, prez.”

Shrugging, White turned and walked into the church. It was the largest in Unova, extremely extravagant, and all lined up for the perfect in idealised fairytale weddings. If everything went according to plan, which it had to, because otherwise White would scream. She thought about talking to N first, but decided it would be better to get the difficult one out of the way first. Black was definitely going to be completely freaking out.

“Wait here, okay?” she told Ty.

“Aww, c’mon.”

“No. You’re waiting here.”

Ty sighed in irritation and leant against the wall, mumbling irritably.

White knocked on the door. It was immediately flung open and she was pulled inside. Black slammed the door behind her, leaning against it wide-eyed and hyperventilating. He was only half in his tux, the slob.

“Oh my god White, what am I doing?!” Black cried.

“Getting ready to get married,” White replied. “You can’t wear a t-shirt to get married. It’s incredibly rude.”

Ignoring White’s voice of reason, Black continued to whine, “I was a thief and he was a king!”

“Actually, since you were both being so childish about the whole thing, I’d say a pirate and a princess.”

“I’m not sure that N even _knows_ what marriage is, even if I’ve explained it about a million times, he just sees all the successful couples on TV being married and _that’s_ why he asked me, but we’re only twenty-one, I don’t wanna screw this up, but I screw _everything_ up and _seriously_ does he have any idea what marriage actually is?!”

White shrugged. “Honestly, I think he just wanted an excuse to buy a pretty new dress.”

“See!” Black cried. “I’m gonna ruin him!”

“Yeah, of course, because it’s possible to ruin him more than his _father_ did.”

“Shut up!” Black shouted. “He didn’t choose that!”

“But he chose _you_ ,” White firmly replied. “He chose you, so you’re invited to ruin him. As you have been for the past three years. And you haven’t managed to yet, so I think you’re probably doing something right.”

Black was silent as his insecurities tried to poke holes in that argument. When he didn’t find one, he grumbled, “Okay, that’s true and all, but he’s still only marrying me as an excuse to get a pretty new dress.”

“And because he knows it’s a great show of love,” White groaned. “The dress is a bonus. Trust me, I bought it with him. He wouldn’t shut up about the equation of a perfect relationship and how the answer is basically you.”

“Was he being sarcastic?” Black asked, dazed. “He’s ranted at me about that. I thought he was being sarcastic.”

“Pretty sure he doesn’t know what sarcasm is.”

“…okay, he doesn’t, but this can’t be happening!” Black cried. “It’s too… too…”

“Perfect?”

“YES!” Black shrilly shrieked. “I don’t deserve it. Not perfect.”

“I planned it that way,” White replied. “You know, for the ratings. It’s gotta look really fairytale, so if you could get over your survivor’s guilt for a few hours in order to further my career and make both yourself and N insanely happy, please, go right ahead.”

Black leant against the door, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, before nodding. He pulled the door open. “’M going to see N.”

“Bad luck!” White reminded him, because she honestly wanted to speak to N first.

Black shrugged, muttered a greeting to Ty (who was pretending not to have been eavesdropping) before walking down the hall. He knocked on N’s door, which immediately flew open with a cry of, “Black!” N, also half dressed (but N’s half-dressed involved a petticoat and a corset), threw his arms tightly around Black and buried his face in Black’s hair. Being N, he remained oblivious to the doors around them opening and people peering questioning at the supposed-to-be-happy couple. Cheren raised his eyebrows questioningly at White, who shrugged.

“Uh… you okay?” Black asked.

“No,” N gasped. “Black, there’s a book in there, and… and it says I’ll spend eternity in a lake of fire because we had sex before getting married!”

White snickered as Black’s face was consumed by blushing.

“N, that’s, that’s just a matter of opinion,” Black replied. “Uh, some people believe that but…”

“But I didn’t even know that was an option!”

“If you’re that worried, we can do a confession or… whatever it is?” Black frowned. “I don’t think God is likely to care, anyway. If there is one.”

“Arceus,” N insisted.

“Not the same thing.”

“If there _is_ a god who would do that, I don’t really want to risk aggravating them!”

“Pascal’s Wager is not a valid form of logic.”

“Of course it is, Pascal was a mathematician!”

“It’s based on scaring people into believing things.”

“I still don’t get what’s wrong with that.”

“ _Everything_ , N.”

“What are they talking about?” Ty whispered.

“I don’t know, but you’d better be filming it,” White whispered back.

“Of course,” Ty replied as N shouted a stream of numbers.

“You’re just saying numbers!” Black cried. “You’re not actually proving anything, you’re just shouting numbers and hoping I won’t say anything to avoid looking stupid.”

“You _do_ look stupid, I was talking about Pascal’s triangle! Because mathematicians are always right!”

“Okay, _fine_ , but even if it does happen and we _do_ go to Hell — yes, that’s what the lake of fire is called, and no, it’s not necessarily a lake of fire from what I’ve heard, I dunno, you’ll have to ask someone who cares — at least we’ll be there together.”

“Oh.” N’s arms tightened around Black. “Yes, that’s true.”

“So it’s a dumb thing to fight about,” Black said. He kissed N’s throat. “Still wanna get married?”

“Yes, I think so,” N replied.

“It’s not like it’s a societal must-do.”

“I know.”

Black continued, “And I know you don’t like crowds, or parties, so if you don’t want to do this…”

“I do,” N insisted. “Thanks to that video of you singing me that song, the whole world knows that you love me. Now the whole world will know how much I love you.”

“I don’t care if they know or not. I know. That’s enough.”

No way. They couldn’t just call off the wedding last minute. Not after White had gotten all excited about the ratings she’d gain.

“Oh.” N looked over at White. She mouthed words to him, and he thankfully repeated them as though they were his own. “Well, it’s paid for, so we might as well.”

Black smiled and kissed N.

The gathered crowd cooed in romantic awe, Cheren included, and it was like the wedding had already happened.

In a way, it had. Black and N were both so vocal that they more or less recited unscripted vows back and forth every day.

“Okay,” White said, stepping forward and pulling Black away. N whined in protest, reaching for Black like a child who lost his favourite toy. The freak. “You’ve both gotta get ready. Then after the ceremony and reception you can run off and touch each other to your heart’s contents.”

Black and N exchanged looks. Suspicious, White handed Black over to Cheren, before leading N back into his room, closing the door behind them.

“It’s improper to watch another’s spouse get dressed,” N matter-of-factly said. “Especially as I am sort of a king. Even if you are almost family.”

“You’re already mostly dressed, it doesn’t count,” White replied. She pulled the gown, strapless, ivory and screaming ‘PRECIOUS PRINCESS’ with every thread, from N’s wardrobe and handed it to him. “Go on, put it on, don’t make the dent in my bank account a waste.”

Actually, it wasn’t technically White’s bank account. It was the studio’s.

“You said that this wedding would enable me an opportunity to craft my public image into whatever I want it to be and thus put my celebrity to use,” N said, voice slightly muffled as he pulled the dress on way too carelessly for the eighty thousand pyen price tag. “But I still don’t quite understand how. I read that celebrity is like the black hole of media.”

“Which means it’s what the entire business revolves around, remember?” White replied, helping N not to destroy the dress. “You told me that black holes are at the centre of the galaxy and that’s what everything is orbiting. So the news will be orbiting around you for a bit.”

“But that was before I realised that the common misconception about black holes is that they are like vacuum cleaners,” N replied. “So don’t they mean that celebrity news is what consumes all over news?”

“…who cares?” White asked. “You wanna marry Black, so you’re marrying him, and we’re just _happening_ to use that to _maybe_ gain some ratings and make me a bit more of a celebrity due to _your_ celebrity, nobody’s getting hurt, and maybe this’ll go viral too, like Black’s love song, remember?”

She could tell that N was on the verge of deciding to run away and marry Black in the woods with a deerling as the minister. The part of her that was Black’s sister and N’s friend thought go for it, just put the dress on first so you’re pretty and it’s dramatic as fuck. The part of her that was a journalist thought don’t you dare ruin my planning you hippy bitch, I even tortured some interns by making them put goddamn ribbons on your stupid dragons.

At least if he did run off, she had some gold on Ty’s camera. It just wouldn’t be so easy to explain away the failure to deliver on the studio’s money’s worth.

White handed N a tiara. “A crown for a king.”

N put it atop his head. His hair had grown quite a lot since Black had cut it; White hadn’t realised how much until now, seeing it brushed for a change and hanging down N’s back.

“If you wanna go, go,” White suddenly found herself saying. “It’s like Black said, you don’t need to put on a big show for the world.”

“I don’t mind,” N replied. “I’m curious to experience this, and see what changes. If anything.”

“It probably won’t,” White admitted.

N shrugged.

“At least you look pretty,” White said with a smile. She patted N on the head, a little patronisingly, but mostly affectionately, before leaving the room.

She leant against the door and listened with a smile as N pried the window open and climbed out.

“What’s going on, prez?” Ty asked.

“Go wait outside,” White said. “Take your camera.”

“Um, okay…?”

White walked over to Black’s door and loudly cried, “N, where’re you going?!”

“…excuse me,” Black muttered to Cheren before he too pried his window open.

“Seriously?” Cheren sighed. “You’re doing this again?”

“Shut up, don’t judge me, you’re being a dick again, I’ll see you later.”

“How much later this time?”

“I dunno, a week?”

“I’ll come looking after a week then. If you’re not back.”

“Okay, sure.”

Cheren still had issues with being second best in Black’s life. It was kind of cute, even if it was a bit too obsessive for a platonic relationship.

White threw the door open and overdramatically cried, “Black, N’s running away!” just in time to see Black jump down from the window. She ran over and watched as Black ran up to N, who was waiting on Zekrom (who was fixing its white ribbon so it was a pretty bow).

“Black!” she called after him.

Black waved before climbing up. They took to the sky, and there, standing in the church doorway was Ty, filming the whole spectacular scene.

“Did you plan this?” Cheren suspiciously asked.

“Of course not,” White replied. “It’s just a wedding out in the woods with a deerling as the minister is way more their style anyway. They’re complete freaks.”

“I suppose,” Cheren grumbled.

White elbowed him. “Hey, why don’t you and Bianca take this wedding instead?”

Cheren turned pink, straightened his tie nervously and muttered, “Idiot.”

White looked down at Ty, who gave her the thumbs up sign. She returned it. Even if it wasn’t what the studio paid for, it’d be dramatic, it’d be more newsworthy, and best of all, Shauntal could write another book based off it to cash in on.

It was probably also good that Black and N were happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading this fic! Please let me know what you thought!


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